Pieces
by PortalPanda
Summary: Wheatley falls from space & GLaDOS returns him to Aperture to punish him. To show Wheatley what he put Chell through, She transfers him into a human body & dumps him on the surface to fend for himself. After seeing him fall, Chell drags Wheatley back to her home. There Wheatley has to work towards Chell's forgiveness & friendship, all while learning what it means to be human.
1. 2 am

Chell stirred lightly as somewhere in the house a clock struck two.  
She blinked, blearily taking in her surroundings as her senses came back to life. There was a chill in the early morning air, and thick, muffled winter silence filled the room.  
Well... Almost.  
Soft snoring could be heard from behind her, where her companion was curled up in a ball, lightly pressed against her back in an attempt to keep warm.  
Chell smiled as she turned to see Wheatley snuggled up against her, sleeping soundly with a light smile on his face. Had he known that Chell was awake, or had Wheatley been awake himself, he would have scrambled away from her so quickly that he likely would have thrown himself off the bed. But he wasn't awake, and he was very, very close to her.  
Earlier on in their relationship (aka after he had been thrown back into her nice quiet life by a sassy homicidal supercomputer), Wheatley would have received a hearty knuckle sandwich for being within ten feet of Chell, but, strangely, his closeness didn't bother her now.  
Not that she had initiated it.  
About a week or so ago there had been a terrible thunder storm that had sent the sleeping man next to her whimpering outside her door like a lost puppy. Chell couldn't take it for longer than five minutes and had let him in. He had been sleeping in Chell's room since, and, oddly enough, she didn't really mind.  
This time of year the morning air was sharp and frigid, after all, this was winter in the upper peninsula of Michigan: it was brutally cold. But Wheatley was like a little furnace, and when he cuddled up next to her in that slightly annoying yet strangely adorable way (like he was doing now), it made the world seem a little less cold. There was no harm in letting him sleep in here with her.  
With one more smile towards the sleeping man next to her Chell burrowed back down into her nest of blankets and snuggled up against him.


	2. Stone

Wheatley blinked and recoiled into the corner of the couch as Chell suddenly appeared in front of him. He had been half asleep and she had scared the living daylight out of him, so of course his natural reaction was to yelp like a frightened dog.  
"AH! Oh, it's just- it's you!" Wheatley gave a nervous laugh, gingerly looking up at her and trying to ignore the uninterested expression she wore. "Don't scare me like that, lady! Er, please? It's not very n- I mean, um, I would greatly appreciate it if you did not sneak up on me in the silent darkness when I am attempting to rechar- Um- Sleep. Yes. Please don't do that again."  
Something about the look that Chell was giving him told him that she would likely make it a point to do that again.  
She was standing stock still, tense, erect, and using every inch she had on him (while he was sitting down) to her advantage. Her grey eyes were bright and alert, glinting with the dangerous determined sparkle that he had become familiar with during their days in the facility. Only this time it wasn't directed at Her, it was directed at him.  
Wheatley's nervous smile melted away.  
A few days ago Chell had rescued him from Aperture after She had brought him back from space and ripped- and transferred him into a human body. At the time Wheatley had been relieved (and exhausted, and in pain, and scared out if his mind), thinking that Chell saving him meant that she forgave him... but now he wasn't so sure.  
While it was true that Chell had rescued him from Her and given him a place to stay, she was also being very distant towards him. In the past few days, the ex-test subject had tended to his cuts and bruises, brought him food and water, and even helped him around the house (as he hadn't yet mastered the art of walking), but she hadn't once looked him in the eye. She wouldn't stay in the same room with him for longer than a meal (and Wheatley got the feeling that she only stayed that long because she was afraid he might choke to death otherwise).  
Now was a perfect example.  
Chell was towering over him, avoiding eye contact and making no attempt to reply to anything he said. She looked tired, as if he was trying her patience- yet she was offering him something. Wheatley had been so busy trying to make small talk and stay on her good side (two things he could rarely accomplish st the same time) that he hadn't even noticed the thing that brought her over to him in the first place.  
In her arms she held a pillow and a blanket, both of which looked very soft and much more comfortable than the bony hand he had been propping himself up with earlier.  
He blinked up at her in surprise when he noticed the offerings, and, with her watching him, carefully took them.  
"Um...Thank you." Wheatley attempted to look as small and grateful as possible. "These are nice. Definitely much better than my hand." He gave a nervous chuckle then, shaking out his sore wrist. "I should be able to make a very comfortable, er, bed, sleeping nest, thing, with these. Nice and toasty. So, um. Thank you."  
Chell gave what might have been a microscopic nod before she took the offerings back, gently prying them out of his hands and arranging them for him. She propped the pillow up against the arm of the couch, lightly pressed down on his chest until he put two and two together and later down, and then drapped the quilt over top of him. His eyelids dropped instantly (Wheatley had had a crazy week and Chell knew that he had to be tired) as he burrowed down into the blanket.  
She began to make her way towards the light on the other side of the room  
"I- I don't understand you." Chell paused, forgetting about the light that needed to be switched off and instead turning back to Wheatley. "You hate me. I know you hate me. I stabbed y-you in the back, and-and punched you down an elevator shaft, and t-tested you, and screamed at you. I tried to kill you." Chell pretended that she couldn't hear his voice cracking as she gave the lamp across the room a hard stare. "I-I tried to kill you, and you can't stand to look at me- can't stand to even be in the same room as me- and I know that you hate me."  
Even Wheatley could hear how tired he sounded.  
"So why am I here?" His eyes and throat were beginning to burn as if they were trying to tell him to stop talking but he couldn't. The words were just spilling out. "Why are you tending to me like some-some injured little fledgling if you can't even stand the sight of me? Why did you bring me here? Why did you save me from Her? You don't forgive me. You hate me. So why are you doing all of this?"  
Wheatley wanted to cry but he couldn't. Instead, he buried his face down into the pillow in a poor attempt to hide from Chell. He was just so tired of hurting and being guilty and confused. He wished that he could do something right for once instead of being so useless. Wheatley was sick of himself, he knew that Chell had to be sick of him too.  
Through the muffled silence of his pillow, Wheatley heard soft footsteps padding through the carpet and across the room. The lamp turned off with a quiet click and darkness spilled across the room. A moment later he felt a cool hand resting on his cheek.  
They both tensed at the contact, Wheatley suspecting that this was a gesture that was supposed to be much more comforting than it actually was. Her hand then moved to his hair, running soothingly through his soft auburn curls. His anger subsidised and he began to fall asleep.  
Chell slowly rose from her crouched position beside the couch, just as confused as Wheatley. In all honesty, she didn't know why she had brought him back with her. Part of her had thought that he deserved whatever She wanted to do to him, but the other part of her hadn't been able to leave him there. Chell was caught at a bit of a stalemate with herself: she didn't want to be mean to Wheatley, but she wasn't ready to forgive him either. Chell had no idea what to do with him.  
She watched him for a moment as she stood, taking in how innocent he looked in his sleep.  
'Looks can be deceiving.'  
Chell started to make her way towards the door when she was stopped yet again. She looked down to see that a bony hand had lightly captured her wrist. Apparently, Wheatley hadn't been asleep after all.  
His bright blue eyes (which almost seemed to glow in the darkness) gave her a thoroughly broken, pleading look.  
"I don't deserve this."  
Chell's only response was to take her arm back and leave him alone in the darkness.


	3. Lost Scene

Chell slowed to a walk as the core above her suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. She had quickly gotten used to Wheatley's dramatic habits but this had caught her a bit off guard. She hoped nothing was wrong.

The blue opticed core swiveled around and looked down at her with an expression of mild concern. "Are you alright?"

She gave a soft huff of laughter, a ghost of a smile crossing her face as she shook her head.

Was she alright? Wasn't he the one who had stopped dead in his tracks as though he had seen an army of turrets aiming at him? She gave him a dubious look, her grey eyes sparkling with fond amusement as his iris darted around the room.

"Oh, yeah, I know," Wheatley started with a roll of his optic, "You're all big and tough and strong- nothing scares you." He wagged his lower handle at her for emphasis. "But I've been watching you and- I've gotta say- I think I'm getting pretty good at reading you. Because, you know. You can't talk."

Chell gave him a look that seemed to say, _'Can't I?'_

"Nope. You can't. Brain damage. Sorry." The british core said hastily. "But, my point is, I think I'm getting pretty good at reading your expressions and all that, and, and you're acting weird. Different." He couldn't help but notice that she glanced away when he tried to look her in the eye.

Wheatley wagged his handle at her again as his voice turned sly. "That's right, lady. Little ole' Wheatley can read you like a book. No, better than a book. More like, like a pamphlet. Or maybe one of those brochure things they used to keep down in the lobby." His optic gave a soft 'plink plink' as he paused to think for a moment before springing back into animation like a hyperactive puppet. "ARG! Distracted, right! But my point is, you are acting different, missy. You're acting like something is wrong. When, in fact, nothing is wrong. To my knowledge, at least."

Chell crossed her arms (as well as she could while still holding the portal gun) as the core cautiously surveyed the room, his iris shrinking and turning a lighter shade of blue. Damaging his confidence (not that she had meant to) was about as easy as kicking over a sandcastle. Wheatley's previous expression of haughty amusement now melted into one of nervous fear.

"Come to think of it though... is something wrong?" The core didn't do a very good job of hiding the fear that was slipping into his voice. "I mean, I'm sure nothing is wrong. I would definetly, probably know if something was wrong. We should be safe back here... but, um, if something is in fact wrong, please tell me."

Wheatley gave her a blank, expectant look as she examined the floor.

Chell wanted to laugh, to give him a gentle pat on the hull and a smile that told him that he was panicking over nothing. She wanted to... but she couldn't.

Wheatley was right. Chell was acting different, and something was wrong. The only problem was that she didn't really know what was wrong. All she knew was that ever since they had left the turret production lines, she had had this terrible... foreboding feeling. Like something terrible was about to happen to one of them.

The test subject had tried to pass it off as paranoia and keep an optimistic façade for Wheatley's sake, but he had somehow found the holes in her disguise and now it was beginning to unravel.

Chell pressed her lips into a thin frown as she looked up at Wheatley.

"Oh no, something really is wrong, isn't it?" She was surprised to hear that he sounded more concerned (for her) than panicked. "What is it? Are you alright?"

Chell did manage a light smile at that. No one had expressed concern for her well being in very long time before she had met Wheatley, and hearing that someone cared about her made something warm blossom in her chest. It helped make some of her fear fade away.

She looked up at him with the same smile and waved his questions away.

 _'I'm fine.'_

"Are you sure? Nothing is wrong?" He gave her a look that she thought was probably supposed to look scrutinizing, but ended up looking more like his shudder had gotten stuck in some strange squinting expression. Wheatley didn't do serious very well.

Chell shook her head again, this time a little more slowly as something in her stomach started to hurt at watching him.

Wheatley would be fine. He was doing a (surprisingly) good job of keeping her safe and away from Her, and they were both okay and they were going to escape together. Period.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even convince herself of that. Much less the core in front of her.

"Aw, c'mon, love. You can tell good ole' Wheatley anything. You can trust me, I promise." He gave her one of those bright, happy, reassuring Wheatley looks that always managed to push through her wall of armor.

Chell sighed and sat her portal gun down on the ground. With both of her hands now free, she returned her attention to the core and began to slowly try and motion to him.

"Um, you?" Wheatley guessed as she pointed to herself. Chell gave a little nod, then pointed down the other end of the corridor they were in. "You... there?

She nodded, pointing back at the same place and shaking her head.

"You don't want to go there? You don't want to go that way?" His optic brightened a bit as she nodded again, then pressed a hand over her heart.

"You don't want to go... because... you... are... choking?" Here Chell's previous concerned and uncomfortable expression transformed into one of amusement. She pressed her lips together in a poor attempt to keep from laughing.

Wheatley was too relieved to notice.

"No? Okay, that's good! Because, being completely honest here: I don't think I could have done anything about that. And that would have been bad."

He didn't understand what she found so funny about that.

"Okay, serious! You don't want to go because... your chest hurts? Oh God, you aren't having one of those, one of those heart attack things, are you?"

Chell shook her head again, this time wearing an expression that was a little more annoyed.

 _'Why are you trying so hard to kill me off here?'_

"No? Stop scaring me lady!" Wheatley rolled his optic around as Chell gave an annoyed huff of laughter. "Alright, one more. Just give me one more guess. You don't want to go because you... have... a.. bad... feeling?" Chell blinked in surprise and gave a little nod. She hadn't really expected him to guess right.

"Oh! I actually got it right! Not-Not that I thought that I couldn't guess what it was, I, I knew what it was all along. I was just, just testing you."

 _Testing you._

Something about that phrase made the smile fade from Chell's face.

"But, but anyways, you really don't have anything to worry about." Wheatley gave her a look that she thought was supposed to look reassuring."We're perfectly safe back here- the only thing she can touch is the lights, and since I've got my trusty flashlight (which will not kill me), that's not a problem.

"And... we've already disabled the turrets, so those shouldn't bother you. 'Probably don't have to worry... about being shot to death any time soon. So that's, that's good, right?

"All that leaves is escaping!" "Don't worry about that, love! We've got it in the bag! With my hacking, and your, button pushing and, and problem solving skills. She doesn't stand a chance against us! We'll be out of here in no time. Both of us."

Chell gave a hard swallow, forcing a smile and gently cupping the side of Wheatley's hull. The core made a happy little sound and snuggled into her hand like a kitten, oblivious to the heartbroken look on her face. By the time he looked back up it was gone.

He gave her another one of those happy, affectionate Wheatley looks and nuzzled into her palm. "Don't worry so much, love. We can do this. All you have to do is trust me, and we'll be out of here in no time. You can do that, can't you?"

Chell gave the core a fake smile and a little nod. She hoped that she was right.


	4. Hunger

Wheatley was dying.

His every movement hurt, he was exhausted even though he had slept through most of the day, and his stomach was absolutely killing him. The pain was ten times worse than any of the artificial stuff he had experienced as a core, and it hurt like someone had their hand inside of his stomach in an attempt to flip it inside out.

Wheatley was dying a slow, terrible death, and to top it all off, the lady was laughing at him.

She had delayed her trip into the living room for a very long time (30 whole minutes), not being too keen on seeing him again for obvious reasons. Eventually she had poked her head in to see if he was awake, or maybe, if she was lucky he was sleeping and she too could return to bed (Chell was by no means a lazy person, but she was still tired from luging a half conscious Wheatley all the way from Aperture the day prior). Unfortunately for her, Wheatley was awake, and he spotted her peeking into the room before she had time to retreat.

"Lady!" He sprung up from his slouched position the second he saw her, his voice sounding half thrilled and half terrified. "Somethings wrong! Everything hurts, and my stomach keeps making these weird noises... I think.. I think She gave me a defective body or something!" Here Wheatley flopped backwards against the couch like a flailing back like a fish. "I'm dying!"

Here his stomach gave a loud growl as if to agree.

Chell glanced in his direction with a look that was a mix of sympathy, amusement, and annoyance. Wheatley wasn't dying; he was hungry and dramatic. They had gotten home late the night before, and Chell had been so relieved and exhausted that she had simply dumped Wheatley on the couch and gone to bed. Now she realized that he hadn't eaten since he'd been in her custody (which had been about a day now), and Chell wondered if he had eaten at all since the transfer.

Something told her that She probably hadn't fed him a three course meal before dumping him on the surface to starve to death.

With that thought her amused expression faded, but not before Wheatley could see it.

"Did you-Are you-Did you just- Are you laughing at me?" Chell glanced in his direction with a now somber expression, shaking her head to the side. "Yes! You-Ow!" His blue eyes gave her a pitiful look as he slumped back in pain. "You laughed at me! That's terrible, lady! I would never laugh at you if you were dy-" At that Chell's expression sprang from light sympathy to a dubious scowl. Wheatley gave a nervous chuckle as he realized his mistake, raising his hands in surrender.

"Um, bad example. Wait! Where are you going?"

 _'I'm going to find you something to eat before you further convince me to let you sit there and starve to death.'_ Chell thought with gritted teeth. He certainly wasn't helping his own case.

She gave a strained sigh as she entered the kitchen and tried to think of something Wheatley could eat without chocking on or spitting it out.

 _'Huh. This might be harder than I thought.'_

He was so terribly thin, hardly anything more than skin and bones (and a mop of very dirty, tangled red hair that she wasn't ready to deal with quite yet). Chell herself remembered how awful it had been living off of nothing but adrenaline vapor and assumed that Wheatley had experienced the same during his short second stay at the facility. At least in her case she'd had some meat on her bones before her stasis and testing (not that she was fat); Wheatley looked as though he hadn't even had that, and Chell wondered how long it had been since he'd actually eaten anything. If he didn't get a little meat on his bones soon, her reactions to his thoughtless comments would be the least of his problems.

Chell snapped out of her thoughts and strode to the refrigerator, opening the door and grabbing a bottle of water. After a brief wrestling match yesterday, she had gotten Wheatley to drink. He had been terrified, screaming about how water would make him explode and she was trying to kill him (Thankfully for both of them she hadn't been trying to kill him and no one had been around to hear him scream), but once Chell had gotten some water down his throat (and he had finished choking) he quickly realized that he liked it, and needed it, and finished off the rest of the bottle.

Chell placed the water on the table. Wheatley could drink; now she needed to get him to eat.

It was time for breakfast, but Chell didn't want to feed him anything too rich (the last thing she needed was to have to clean Wheatley throw up off her carpet) and giving him anything hard was practically giving him an invitation to choke to death.

 _'Cereal, pancakes, bacon, sausage, oatmeal, eggs, potatoes, fruit...'_

"Say apple!"

At that memory a small smile flashed across her face, though it was hidden from Wheatley by the kitchen wall and Chell was glad he didn't see it.

 _'I could give him an apple but he'd probably choke on it.'_ Chell bounced on her toes as she thought, then reopened the fridge as she got an idea. Moments later she returned to the living room with the water bottle and two small containers in hand.

Wheatley gave her a sheepish smile as she reappeared from the kitchen. "Erm, thank you."

Chell gave him the water first and he drank about half of that in one swig. She was just happy she wasn't going to have to force it down his throat like yesterday.

Next she handed him the container and a spoon, attempting to keep it level so he wouldn't spill it all over her couch.

"Um... Thank you very much for getting me something to eat- I'm very grateful- that you went and got me food... but, what exactly... is this? It looks kind of... gross."

 _'First you wake me up begging for food, then you don't even want to eat the food I bring you?'_

He seemed to notice her annoyed expression and quickly backtracked. "But, you know what? I think I'll try it anyways."

Wheatley at least seemed to remember how eating worked, as he scooped up a spoonful of food and popped it into his mouth. His expression changed from hesitance to happiness."That's... actually pretty good." He popped another spoonful into his mouth. "What is it?"

Chell didn't respond (she kind of doubted that he'd expected her to), she simply turned back to the kitchen to make some breakfast for herself. She shook her head and smiled as she watched him eat.

 _'Say apple.'_

-

Authors Note:

Hey guys! I'm so sorry this took so long. I had a really hard time writing it and I'm still not too happy with how it came out, but hopefully the next part will be better. I may come back and redo this one later.


	5. Correspondence

Wheatley was going to have to learn how to walk.

Chell had been helping him around the house when necessary, but he had been here for over a week now and all he had done in all that time was sit on the couch. She knew that he was bored out of his skull (a bored Wheatley is a dangerous Wheatley) and he needed to learn how to get around on his own. She wasn't going to baby Wheatley forever; he needed to be more independent.

He also needed to stop hogging her couch.

It wasn't going to be easy: Wheatley was clumsy, and awkward, and his sense of balance was practically nonexistent, but Chell did enjoy a challenge. She was every bit as determined as he was hopeless, and if she could teach him to get around on his own it would make things a lot easier for both of them. All it would take was a little bit of correspondence and they would be done in no time.

Chell decided that there was no time like the present. That morning she strode into the living room with her usual air of confidence, stopping in front of Wheatleys' place on the couch and looking down at him with her arms crossed.

"Uh oh." He didn't even know what she wanted but he could tell that there was going to be trouble."Did I, am I in trouble? Not that I want- I don't _want_ to be in trouble- and I- I realize that I'm _in trouble_ from, well, from the last, er, thing, but, am I in, _new_ trouble?" Chell gave him a funny look. "It's just because, you, you've got that _look_. You know the one? The one you gave Her sometimes- not the angry one- but the other one. The, um, I'm-about-to-break-something-that's-really-expensive-and-I'm-excited-about-it, look."

Chell gave a devilish little smile. _'I do enjoy wreaking havoc.'_

"Oh God." Wheatley tried his best to scramble away from her, but, considering that he couldn't walk, he didn't really have anywhere to scramble away _to_. Before he knew it Chell had hoisted him onto his feet and was dragging him into the kitchen. "What- What are you doing?" Whatever this was, it vaguely reminded him of when she tried to help him walk; although if that were the case, she was deciding where he wanted to go instead of him. "Okay, um, are you trying to pick me up, or something? Because, I know that worked back when I, when I was a core, but, um, I don't think that'll work anymore. Not- not that I'm saying that you're weak or, or anything! I'm not saying that at all! You're the strongest human I've ever met. The, the bravest, too. I just- I don't understand what you're doing."

Chell stopped at the end of his monologue and plopped him down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. "Oh, um, you want me to eat?"

She shook her head to the side, standing up and making a point of bracing herself against the table. Then she pointed to him. "No? You want me to... you want me to stand?"

At that she gave a nod and another little mischievous smile. _'Bingo.'_

"Okay... um, I'm sure you're already aware of this, but, I tried this whole 'standing' thing earlier, and it, it didn't work out too well. So, if it's all the same to you, I think I'm gonna pass. Thank you, though." Chell was aware of his previous attempt to stand up. She had been in her room, on the other side of the house, and she had still heard his scream as clear as a whistle. He had only screamed because he's scared himself when he fell. Hurt feelings aside, he was fine. Wheatley would be fine now, too. He just needed to stop being scared and dramatic. Besides, even if he didn't want to try and learn to walk, it wasn't like he could go anywhere else without her taking him there.

 _'You can't get back to the couch without my help.'_ Chell thought smugly.

"Oh... wait a second." Wheatleys' blue eyes widened as he realized his dilemma. The return of Chells' devious smile didn't help calm his panic. "Wait, lady- Chell- wait, please? I don't- I can't do this. I'm going to fall, and then I'll hurt myself, and then I could die! I don't want to die! You- you don't want me to die! Do you?" He visibly cringed after the words had left his mouth, wincing and cautiously peeking back up at her."Actually- on second thought- maybe you shouldn't answer that."

Chell huffed out a sigh and crossed her arms. _'Wheatley. I don't hate you; you're not going to die. Stop being so dramatic.'_ Once again Chell helped him to his feet, this time helping him stand in front of the edge of the table. Which... would have been quite a lot easier if he would stop squirming and yelling in her ear. "Lady- lady please don't do this, I'm gonna fall, I'm gonna die, you're gonna kill me!"

Chell still had one free hand, and she used it to snap her fingers. That, along with her signature Chell glare, shut him up. _'Stop talking. Just watch.'_ She used her free arm to make a point of leaning on the table for balance.

"You're... you're leaning on the table. So you don't fall, right?"

Chell nodded. _'Right. If you ever feel like you're going to fall, just lean on the table to catch your balance.'_

"O-Okay. I can do that." Wheatley took a deep breath before shakily rising to his feet and grasping onto the table with an iron grip. After a moment his posture straightened out and his grip relaxed a bit. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!" He laughed.

 _'Good. Then maybe you should let go of the table.'_ Chell smirked as she removed his hands from the table. Wheatley wobbled a bit when she first removed his hands, but other than that he stayed put.

"Alright! Yea! I'm standing! Can I go back to the couch now?" He asked hopefully.

Chell smiled and shook her head. _'You can go back to the couch when you can walk yourself over there.'_

"Drat."

 _'Now you know how to balance while standing still. Do you think you can balance while moving?'_

"Now I suppose you want me to walk, don't you?" Wheatley asked flatly.

 _'You're pretty good at this guessing thing.'_

"Alright... so... what do I do?" Chell now dragged Wheatley into the kitchen, releasing him next to the counter top that ran along the wall. She made a point of holding onto the counter ( _'You can use this to catch your balance just like the table top.'_ ), and after she had gotten that across, she motioned to herself.

Wheatley gave her a blank stare for a moment before piecing things together. "Oh. Just... copy you, then?" Chell gave a little nod. "Brilliant!"

A few feet away, Chell slowly began to walk up and down the floor of the kitchen. One of her hands ran along beside her on the counter in case she needed to catch herself (though Wheatley knew she wouldn't). On the other side of the kitchen Wheatley inched along the cabinets at a speed so slow it was nearly laughable. Chell could tell that he relied heavily on the countertop for support, and when he tried to loosen his grip on it he took an immediate downward plunge.

"NO IMGONNAFALLIMGONNAFALLIMGONNA- Oh!" Wheatleys' panicked cries came to a halt he realized that he was no longer falling. His bright blue eyes blinked in surprise to find that he was looking up at a slightly alarmed Chell. "You caught me!" He laughed.

Chell helped him to his feet and tried her best to ignore the pain in her chest at how familiar the lightness and friendliness of his voice sounded. It was just like before. She didn't know whether or not that was a good thing.

"Um... thank you." Wheatley said softly.

Chell shook her head. _'No problem. I should've done it the first time.'_

After Wheatley had regained balance and focus, he returned to slowly pacing the kitchen floor. He picked up a bit of speed and tried to rely on the counter less and less. Eventually he got the hang of it. "Okay. I think I'm pretty good at doing this while holding on..." He ventured cautiously.

 _'Let go.'_

Just as he had done at the table, Wheatley wobbled a bit when he initially let go, but after that he was fine. Wheatley paced up and down he length of the kitchen without incident. The longer he practiced the faster he went, the more balanced he became, and the less he relied on the counter for support. Soon he was walking around the entire kitchen without help.

"Hey! Look at me! I'm walking!" Wheatley cheered, flailing his arms so dramatically it was a wonder he didn't fall. "Now I can explore the rest of the house, and get around on my own- oh!- and I can follow you around so you don't have to be alone all the time!"

Chell rolled her eyes and gave a tired smile. _'Great.'_

His gaze turned to his feet, which were now much more useful. "Thank you, Chell. For everything." His voice was as soft and timid as it had been since she'd brought him here.

Chell gave a soft smile and nodded, though she didn't say anything. She knew that Wheatley wanted her to speak: to say that he was forgiven and everything could go back to the way it had been before he had ruined it; but Chell wasn't willing to go that far just yet. Yes, Wheatley had been much nicer and more cooperative than she expected, but he was probably only acting that way because he knew just as well as she did that he was completely at her mercy.

Or lack thereof.

Chell had no intention of harming him, physically or emotionally, but she wasn't going to forget that he had done both to her, either. Chell would give Wheatley a second chance. She would share her house and teach him how to function as best she could. Maybe if the two of them made it to a point where he could function without her help, the truth would come out. Maybe then she would see whether or not he treated her the way he did because he had to, or because he wanted to. Chell was by no means ready to forgive Wheatley for what he had done, but maybe today had brought her one step closer.

\- Authors Note: The prompt for this was correspondence... I'm not sure if the story fits. I was going for correspondence as in working together. *shrug* I hope you guys liked it! Please review!

EDIT: I fixed the formatting! Sorry about that! Thanks to iammemyself for notifying me that it was off!


	6. Door

Now that Wheatley was mobile (Chell was beginning to question exactly why she had thought that that would be a good thing) he was a bit like a toddler: he wanted to look at everything and go everywhere. Which was even more dangerous than Chell had originally anticipated.

Yesterday, for example, Wheatley had fallen on his face just by opening the door to the refrigerator (If you asked Wheatley he would tell you that it hadn't been his fault, he had just opened the door and then all of the sudden there was an avalanche of those tiny water blocks, so he had tried to run away but then he slipped on one and landed on his face). The whole incident had made her (laugh, for one thing) start to seriously think about all the trouble Wheatley was bound to get into now that he wasn't confined the designated paths of a rail. It was different before, when he could only go where his rail went (though even then he had been able to cause significant damage to Aperture); now he was completely free to go wherever he wanted. Which was terrifying to Chell for more than one reason.

However, Chell was a thinker, and she quickly thought of a solution for her new dilemma.

Wheatley was trying very hard to stay on her good side. The tension between them was easing the tinniest bit every day, and though he was by no means forgiven (not yet), the barest bit of trust was beginning to ebb between them.

That was good. Chell could use that.

She found Wheatley sitting in the little breakfast nook off the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, swinging his legs and munching thoughtfully on a banana. Ever since she had given him that apple sauce on his first day with her, they had discovered that he loved fruit, and it was most of what he ate.

"Hello!" Wheatley chimed as he finished his snack. Chell gave him a little smile and waved. "Whadaya need, love? You're kind of staring at me."

Chell took his wrist, something he was used to by now as he had been living with her for nearly a month, and lead him out of the breakfast nook and into the living room. She stopped them right at the seam in the floor where the carpet met the tile of the kitchen. Then she turned to face Wheatley.

"Oh, charades again, is it? Alright." He was used to that too, but he flinched as she poked him square in the chest.

"Wheatley- er- me?"

'Yes.' She nodded in acknowledgment, then shook her head and made a giant x with her arms.

"I... don't?"

'Right.' She nodded again, this time repeating the previous clue while stepping one foot on the tile floor of the kitchen.

"I don't... kitchen?" Chell nodded. "Yes? I don't... go in the kitchen?" Wheatley's expression turned perplexed as he actually understood what she was saying."Why not?"

'Why not?' Chell gave a huff of silent laughter. 'The kitchen is full of sharp, hot, cold, wet, flammable things that are not safe for someone whose best test to see if something is safe is to poke it.' She gave him an incredulous look as if he should have banned himself from the room.

"I only set my lunch on fire once! I can be more careful! Please?" She didn't budge. "Do I at least get to eat?" He asked half-heartedly.

Her stubborn expression softened a bit at that, and she nodded, a tired but amused expression playing out on her face. After he had mumbled a quiet "Ok." she grabbed his wrist once again and backtracked through the living room and into the hall where the bedrooms were.

"Is this what this is? You just taking me around the house and banning me from everything?" Wheatley scoffed. Much to his surprise Chell let out a soft huff of laughter, shrugging and nodding her head. "I was only joking! You can't-" Chell paused for a moment, giving him a look that seemed to dare him to continue. "I mean, um, technically speaking it is your house and not mine and it is extremely kind of you to let me stay here, but it would be even kinder if you didn't banish me from every room in the house. Don't you think?"

As per usual she didn't reply, she simply paused in front of one of the bathrooms in the hall and rolled her eyes as Wheatley mumbled something about hospitality under his breath.

There were two bedrooms and bathrooms in this hall, with each bedroom across from its corresponding bathroom. They came to a stop in front of the first bathroom, which was Chell's.

"Alright, what's this? Your bathroom. Let me guess, I'm not allowed in there, am I?" Wheatley asked dryly.

Chell gave a little smile. 'Nope.'

"I saw that one coming. Well you know what? I've got my own bathroom. So I don't need to use yours anyways. What do you think about that?" Wheatley asked smugly, smiling a haughty smile and crossing his arms.

'That's exactly what I wanted.'

"Thought so." He sniffed.

Once he was finished with his self-dignified-Wheatley act, Chell took his wrist again and turned so they were now facing the closed door of her bedroom.

This was the most important boundary for her.

Chell was a very quiet, private person who liked to keep to herself. She liked to have a peaceful space for herself where she could rest and think, away from the rest of the world. Before Wheatley had come along, that space had been her house, but now it had dwindled down to just her room. And even her hold on that seemed to be slipping.

One of the things that had prompted this little session of ground rules was that, a few days ago, Wheatley had conveniently forgotten about her silent, yet somehow very clear, message on how when she closed a door that meant that he was not allowed to enter the room because of privacy reasons or because Chell wanted to be alone. To make matters worse Wheatley had done this on a day of particularly clingy behavior on his part (she was exhausted), and Chell had practically thrown him out into the hallway when he had entered her room and woken her from her nap.

Wheatley was Chell's exact opposite, and having him now living with her proved to put quite a toll on Chell. He was so talkative and dependent and clingy that she rarely found time for herself anymore, and even when she did he usually found a way to weasel his way into it. Chell needed at least one place in the house where she could go to be alone.

Wheatley seemed to especially hate this rule, even though, at least to some degree, it had already been in place. "I'm banned from your- wait, wait, wait- see, I was thinking, maybe we could do some negotiating. Because, I get the feeling I was always kind of banned from your room, what with that one recent incident where the door was closed and I came in and you were sleeping and I woke you up and you pretty much threw me-" He gave a sheepish smile, spreading his hands in front of him as Chell gave him one of her warning glares at the memory. "Right. Aside from the point. Point being, since I was already unofficially banned from this room, maybe you should unban me from it since you are banning me from all the other rooms." At the end of his spiel he gave her a bright, hopeful Wheatley smile.

Chell wasn't phased.

"Why am I banned from your room? You've never let me in there! I want to see what it looks like!" Wheatley whined, "That's not fair! You're allowed in my room!"

'It's my house.' She crossed her arms as her signature stubborn expression returned.

"Are there any rooms I'm not banned from?" Wheatley asked incredulously.

'You're still allowed in your room and your bathroom. You're allowed in the living room. And the breakfast nook.'

"What about the dining room?"

The dining room was a room off the kitchen that Chell used a more of a storage room for supplies and things that she wasn't currently using. Wheatley probably couldn't do too much harm in there.

She began to nod but stopped. 'On second thought, that's where I keep the breakables.'

"Wh?!"

Sensing another oncoming protest, Chell held out her hand, silencing him.

She pointed at herself. "You?" She pointed at Wheatley. "Me?" She made a fist. "You... want to punch me?"

Chell smiled and shook her head. 'Not at the moment.' She pressed a hand over her heart and gave him (what she hoped was) a meaningful look.

Wheatley shifted backwards uncomfortably. "You... love me?"

Chell jerked away from him, waving her hands as if she were physically swatting the notion away. 'No!'

"Alright, alright! You don't have to look so offended!" She shook her head, smiling at the bright shade of red now painted across his face. He was a mess.

Chell pointed at him, giving him a serious look to reinforce the validity of her previous statement before she took his hand in hers. Wheatley blinked, his face turning a soft shade of pink.

"You... trust me?" Chell nodded, smiling. "Yes? Oh. Really? That's... wow. That's great. Though it's a little hard to believe since you just banned me from over half of the house." She gave a lightly teasing smile at that, squeezing his hand. "Oh, you want, you just want me to be safe? I guess?"

'Yes. And since I trust you,' She prompted, waving for him to continue.

"And I'll be breaking your trust... if I break your rules." Wheatley sighed, pressing a hand over his eyes in thought before giving her a fond smile. "Clever girl. Alright. You don't have to worry. I'll keep out."

'We'll see.'


	7. Explode

They had been living together for a month now.

Wheatley knew all of Chell's rules (he had learned and obeyed them much better than either one of them had expected him to), but he also knew something else. Something Chell was keeping from him.

He had feigned (some of his) ignorance for a month now, telling himself that she had every right to want to keep certain things to herself, and that over time she would eventually warm up to him again and maybe then she wouldn't keep secrets from him anymore.

But it had been a month now. A whole month since That Day.

Chell wasn't mad at him anymore, she didn't hate him. She hadn't completely forgiven him yet, either, but they had come a long way. Wheatley had come a long way. He was trying very very hard to stay on her good side: to follow all of her rules, spend enough time with her without being too clingy, help her around the house as much as he could. He was doing everything he could think of to try and keep her happy. To get her to like him, or, at the very least, to keep her from hating him.

Which, at moments like this, wasn't very easy for Wheatley.

He and Chell were sitting in the living room in dead silence. For Chell it probably wasn't very awkward, she was reading a book and even if she had simply been sitting there she was always silent anyways, but for Wheatley the silence was almost painful.

He hated silence. Nearly every bad thing that had ever happened to him involved silence, and so now part of him was convinced that if he destroyed any silence he ever encountered he would inevitably destroy the horrible things that went with it.

So Wheatley decided to break the silence, by talking, of course, and the thing he said was the first thing that came to his mind.

The thing that Chell was keeping from him.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Wheatley had meant for the question to sound curious and nonchalant (he was never very good at that last one), but it came out sounding annoyed and accusing. Chell immediately forgot her book and shot him a surprised, angry look that caused him to recoil.

Maybe he should have left the silence alone.

Chell didn't like this topic. Her voice was something she rarely used, and even in those rare circumstances it didn't always cooperate with her. She didn't particularly like it, either, and it was something that Chell preferred to keep to herself. Wheatley knew her (perhaps a bit better than she liked, at times), and he knew that she didn't talk. So why was he bothering her about it now?

Her crystal grey eyes shot him an accusatory glance, demanding an explanation.

"Okay, okay, that came out wrong. That wasn't what I was going for, there. That reaction." Wheatley sank back into the couch as Chell raised an eyebrow at him. "What I was trying to say, is that, I completely understand why you don't talk to me- buttons, bombs, elevator shafts- bad things. I understand." He offered a sheepish smile as her expression hardened. "However, there are no buttons, bombs, or elevator shafts here, in your lovely little home; just one very sad, very sorry Wheatley." He gave her his most innocent, pleading puppy face, hoping that maybe one of those halo things would appear over his head for emphasis.

Chell wasn't amused.

She had come to know that expression all too well in the short weeks Wheatley had been living with her. That face was dangerous. It made her want to give him a smile, or a laugh, or something, and in instances like this those things would indicate that she was agreeing with him. Which she wasn't.

Chell stared pensively at one of the couch cushions for a moment as if contemplating his wishes (which she wasn't) before turning to face him again and firmly shaking her head.

'No.' She then gave him one of her I'm-serious-and-I'm-not-going-to-argue-about-it looks (Chell was the only person Wheatley knew who could argue, and win an argument, without even speaking), which usually shut him up before he could even begin to argue with her.

Unfortunately, this time was different.

In a bold and completely uncharacteristic act, Wheatley rose from his spot on the couch and plopped down next to Chell on the love-seat. Her previous stubborn expression was quickly replaced with one of surprise as he took her hands in his and gave her an urgent look.

"Please, love? Won't you please talk to me? I just want to, to hear your voice. That's not such a crime, is it?" Wheatley was looking at her with those piercingly bright blue eyes, and they were terribly pleading. That sad look was boring into her with such an intensity that it almost hurt, yet she couldn't force herself to look away.

Wheatley was so close, and he was touching her- holding her hands, and giving her that look, pleading with that sad, pathetic voice.

Chell could already feel her throat locking up.

She gave him a sympathetic smile, gently removing her hands from his and breaking eye contact. Again she shook her head. 'It's not that simple.'

"Why not?" Wheatley whined, his shoulders slumping.

'I can't.' She placed a hand at the base of her throat, smiling sadly and shaking her head. The moment had passed. If she was going to speak to him she would have done it earlier; now it was too late. Her voice was gone.

Wheatley didn't understand. "Yes you can! You can talk! I'm not stupid!" His tone of voice was quickly changing from sad to frustrated.

'I never said you were.'

"Why won't you talk?! I know you can talk! I heard you when you- you talked to Her!"

Wheatley hadn't meant to say it- had actually spent quite a bit of time contemplating the fact that he should never tell her what he had heard on That Day- but now the words were out and there was nothing he could do to take them back.

The reaction was immediate.

Chell tensed, recoiling from him as if he had struck her. Her crystal grey eyes grew wide, and, for once, her expression was one of open emotion, clearly reading: 'You weren't supposed to know about that.'

Chells' mind raced with horrible guilt ridden thoughts. Wheatley knew. He knew that she had talked to Her on That Day, and if he knew that she had talked, that also meant he knew what she had said.

He knew those awful things that she had said about him... didn't he?

Little did she know that Wheatley, as per usual, was absolutely clueless. That Day had been extremely agonizing and stressful for him, and though he knew it was probably the most important day of his life thus far, most of it was a blur. He remembered being brought back from space, being terrified as he'd been confronted by Her, then there was... the core transfer... and with that he remembered excruciating pain, followed by a bright white flash... and then he'd been human.

Everything after that had been a blur. Somehow he had ended up on the surface. He woke up on the ground, unable to move, only to look up and find Chell towering over him. She hadn't seemed to notice him (or at least the fact that he was awake) at the time, but he had definitely noticed her, his mind racing to try and decipher whether or not she was friend or foe. However, all his thoughts had come crashing to a halt as he had noticed one small thing.

Chell was talking.

In all their time together down in Aperture, Chell had never spoken one word. Wheatley had assumed that that was simply because she had been in cryo for so long that her ability to speak had been... lost... but now he saw that she could speak just fine.

Half of him wanted to be angry with her for tricking him into thinking that she couldn't speak, but the other half was too focused on how beautiful her voice was to care.

Her voice sounded delicate and soft, a light ribbon of sound that wound its way through the air and into Her uncaring (metaphorical) ears. It was quiet from years without use, but it was firm and serious, too. Whatever it was she was saying, she wasn't messing around. Though he couldn't quite make out what it was that she was saying.

His head had been pounding from whatever She had done to him, the sunlight had been blinding, he had been half paralyzed with terror, so Wheatley had resolved to simply lay there and try to focus on the sound of the ladys' voice. It was a very soothing sound, and it had helped to calm some of his panic before the next phase of terrifying events had occurred.

Usually Wheatley looked back at that memory with fondness, remembering the flood of emotions he had felt upon seeing Chell again, at hearing her voice and hoping that she might save him. Now he realized something else about the memory.

"You-You talked to Her." His blue eyes widened, his gaze filled with sadness and shock. "You talked to Her, before you talked to me."

This realization was met with another: that Chell had moved away from him while he had been thinking. That didn't help.

Wheatley half expected her to try and give another one of those sad looking pity smiles, but, as per usual, her expression was hard. Apparently she saw nothing wrong with his observation.

"You're more willing to talk to Her than you are to talk to me?!" He chocked, "That's not fair! She was horrible to you the entire time you were in the facility! I should know, I watched all the tapes!"

Chell shook her head, her eyes lit with that familiar spark of tenacity, 'That was different. I had to talk or She was going to-'

"I was nice to you! I woke you up, and got you a portal gun, and, yes, I screwed up, but I fixed it, didn't I? I broke you out and we took Her down... and..." The tone of his voice turned, the blue of his eyes taking a darker shade as his speech slowed. "And then you turned against me. You tricked me into thinking we were friends, but then you turned around and took Her side. She was so terrible to you, I heard every word She said to you, yet when I finally did what you wanted, you decided that I was the bad guy! I was only doing what you wanted! I was doing it for you! I was going to get rid of Her, I was going to help you escape! But then you changed your mind."

Hearing that horribly familiar voice made Chell wish that Wheatley was a little core again. That if he was angry with her she could simply walk the other way where he couldn't follow, or pluck him off of his rail and that would be that. Things weren't that simple anymore; Wheatley was human now: he could move of his own accord. She had taught him how.

"I could see it. You didn't look happy anymore. You looked regretful. And scared."

She wanted to move, she wanted to run, but something inside of her was frozen, fluctuating back and forth between anger and fear and suddenly she couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot. But he was still coming towards her with that horrible look in his eyes and that awful voice that was all too familiar, and before she could stop him he was right in front of her, then holding her wrists so she couldn't move.

"You look scared now, too."

Chell grit her teeth and didn't respond.

"Look at me," She did. His words were firm though they were spoken completely free of anger. His voice was soft. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

His expression lead Chell to believe that she had imagined the worst of it. His eyes were their normal shade of bright Wheatley blue, and though they were sad they held no trace of anger. He was holding her wrists but he wasn't even really gripping them; his touch was feather light as he traced his thumb across her skin.

It wasn't Him anymore. It was Wheatley again.

In response to his question Chell delicately removed her hands from his grasp while giving him a calm, measured look. She still wanted to move away but she stayed put.

'What do you think?'

That answer was reason enough for Wheatley to continue talking.

"I only... I only did what I did, because I didn't know what else to do. I had done everything for you, to get you out, and then we were so close... and you didn't want it anymore. You didn't approve of how I was doing things." He pressed his palms into his eyes as he shook his head. "But then something told me that I didn't have to care whether you approved or not. It was almost like a voice-" He started, then cut himself off. "I had been kicked around for so long... I thought it would be so amazing to be in control of everything." He gave a grim little laugh. "Obviously not though."

His hopeful blue eyes were met by her stoney gaze. He looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I didn't have anything else to lose." He mumbled, his face turning pink, "But I was wrong, I had you." Here he forced himself to look up at her despite the fact that her expression hadn't changed. "And you were more important than anything else."

Wheatley cringed as he was met with more silence.

"I'm sorry." He repeated.

Chell shook her head and turned away, hurt at what he had said and how he had said it. The icy chill of distrust she felt, which was almost beginning to feel comfortably familiar to her more tenacious side, helped her collect herself. It unlocked something inside of her that allowed her to breathe a little easier.

It also allowed for something else.

Chell gave Wheatley one last measured look before she swiftly left the room, tossing the word over her shoulder in a quiet voice that was free of anger but nearly bitterly sharp.

"Good."

Author's Note:

This is just a quick chapter to get us up and running again.

Now that I know where I'm actually going with this story new chapters should get better and eventually old chapters will be revised/rewritten.

Also, my Chell can talk! :D

And this was the last fic that I had to write before I could write fluffiness! Hooray! This series should be much better and cuter now that I have some important details out of the way.


	8. Animal

Internal repairs at 92%

Initiating reboot...

Internal repairs at 99%

Reboot complete

Wheatley gave a soft groan of pain as his systems came back to life. Everything hurt, everything felt broken and sluggish and sharp, and he did not want to move. He wasn't sure where he was or what had happened to him, but something in the back of his mind told him that it was very very important and he needed to remember it now.

Think.

Wheatley remembered the reactor core. He remembered that it had nearly caused the literal heart he did not posses to fail when the dark brooding silence he had become so used to had been shattered by the sound of ten thousand blaring alarms. He remembered that he had wanted to get out so badly that he had found a test subject, one in ten thousand, the only one that was still alive, and he had broken them out. He remembered that he had tried to get them out of the facility, but he had messed up-

Suddenly Wheatley sprang back to life, his previously dim optic flashing a blindingly bright stratospheric blue for a split second before it shrank to a pinprick.

He had woken Her.

His test subject was the test subject, the one who had killed Her. And, in his attempt to free both of them, Wheatley had undone all of her (her, yes, that was right, the test subject was a woman, the lady) handiwork in under a minute. She had woken up because of him, and She had grabbed both of them, and then She-

Wheatley yelped as his vision flashed. He felt his optical shudders jerk involuntarily before an urgent red message flashed across his optic.

Warning! Core corruption at 22%!

"That can't be right!" Wheatley cried, "I was, I was at 2% last time I checked! There's no way I could've gone from two to twenty two without-"

He remembered that She had grabbed him with one of Her claws, tossing him into the air like a toy before She caught him and crushed him.

"Oh God."

She had grabbed the lady too. He remembered looking at her, how strikingly calm she looked at first, but in the last image of her he could pull from his memory banks her expression was one of pure open pain.

"Oh God."

Wheatley felt a wave of artificial nausea wash over him as his optic shrank to a pinprick. She could have crushed her. She could have killed her. Easily.

He shook his head vigorously as he thought. "Ok, ok, so, so maybe she's hurt. Maybe she's hurt, um, badly," He cringed, "very badly, but she has to be alive. I mean, she doesn't die. Honestly. That's just- no. She doesn't do that. She survives everything. So, so, I just need to find her, wherever she is, and I can save her, and we can get out of here."

Wheatley sped out of the dark little office with a sense of urgency. He knew he had to find the test subject, he just didn't know where she could be.

"Ok, um, even if She did hurt the lady, She probably wouldn't keep her in Her chamber. The lady is dangerous and She knows it, so that wouldn't be very smart." He noodle to himself, "So if she's not with Her, where is she?"

Suddenly Her voice flooded his mind, a soft venomous hiss.

You must really love to test. I love it too.

"Testing!"

Aperture had quiet a lot of testing tracks but it wasn't all that hard to figure out which one was being used. All Wheatley had to look for was movement: little maintenance arms rushing back and forth, panels heaving themselves into place, a flash of orange through the cracks in the walls, and he found her in no time.

"She's alive!" Wheatley cheered, his optic spinning around in a happy arc as him chassis flooded with relief, "Of course she's alive! She wouldn't kill her when She could test her!"

Just to make sure she was ok, Wheatley peeked through the panels to see her. Nothing was wrong that he could see, but some of the relief he had previously felt began to drain away the longer he watched her. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before, or why he was noticing it now, but her presence felt sort of... Threatening. Almost as if she were some wild animal about to spring from a cage and attack him.

Her eyes were cold and bright like steel. They burned with focused determination, carefully sweeping over everything in the room before analyzing the tests and swiftly devouring them. She glared daggers at every camera in the room with a hatred so intense that, had it been directed at Wheatley, would have likely made him burst into flames. Her hair was a dark blur that swept behind her, a few strands that had managed to escape her ponytail trailing a little farther behind than the rest. Her jaw was set in an hard stoney expression, a mix of anger and pure stubbornness. She looked as though she was more than ready to take Her on.

Again.

She was a force to be reckoned with if the tests were any indication. She absolutely destroyed them, aced every one without a single flaw. She was careful. Her every move was calculated, timed, precise. Wheatley found it ironic that she was the last human left in the facility yet she obviously worked much more efficiently than any of the remaining machines.

Watching her test was mesmerizing and terrifying, and Wheatley would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of her. He was very afraid of her.

She was the human who had singlehandedly killed down Her.

Wheatley wasn't like Her at all; he was tiny and fragile and not the least bit intimidating. She was like a giant venomous spider with fangs the size of swords (while Wheatley was more like an ant), and the lady had squashed Her like it was nothing. She could easily do the same to him, and Wheatley could only imagine what she might do to him if he were to anger her.

He had already been afraid of her, but watching her test made him fear her even more.

He backed away from the panels as a feeling of unease began to settle over his core.

"Maybe... Maybe I should just leave her here." He started slowly, "After all, no one helped her on her first trip through Aperture, right? She was in the testing tracks then and, and she still made it out perfectly fine on her own." He nodded to himself. "It might not be very nice... But Aperture isn't a nice place. Nice people, er, cores, don't survive in Aperture. That's just not how it works. I mean, the lady hasn't always been very nice either, right? She killed Her. She did what she had to do to escape, and" He slowed, his shutters scrunching up in confusion. "And... She somehow ended right back where she started..." He shook his core. "But that's beside the point, point being, I need to get out- both of us need to get out- of here, and she doesn't really need my help to do that." For some reason that almost made him feel worse. "If I leave now, she can finish things up with Her, I can live, and both of us can escape once she's done the dirty work! Besides, she doesn't even know I'm back online. For all she knows I'm dead." He cast a guilty glance at the test chamber behind him. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her..."

Wheatley decided to peer through the panels at her one last time before he left, but this time he moved out farther than he meant to and she spotted him.

Her eyes brightened at the sight of him, but not in a bad way. They didn't look angry or annoyed, they looked lighter. Softer. Her glare snapped out of existence the moment she saw him. She seemed to visibly relax, almost as if the anger was draining out of her.

Her reaction at seeing him made something in Wheatley's core feel warm, making all of his previous fear towards her melt away instantly. He only stayed a moment but he flashed her a happy look before he disappeared back behind the panels.

He sat in stunned silence for a moment, his emotions chasing each other in circles.

"Well..." Wheatley started, his optic, now back to its normal happy Wheatley blue, glanced behind him at the dash of orange between the panels. "Maybe I was wrong." He said softly, "She does look... Angry, when she's testing, but, er, that, that doesn't mean she's angry all the time. I mean, she didn't look like that when we were escaping together." Another bout of warm blossomed from his core. "And, yes, she, um, deactivated Her, but She had it coming, honestly. She was a murderer, She'd been horrible to, to everyone for years before the lady came along and ended Her, um, Her reign of terror." Now all the uncertainty had faded from his voice. "That's not a bad thing, that's a good thing."

Wheatley quickly turned on his rail and sped out of the room, trying on one of his own determined expressions for the first time in decades.

He did trust the lady, and he was going to get her out of here no matter what it took to free her.

Author's Note:

This was a flashback chapter. After talking about Chell being afraid of Wheatley last chapter I wanted to write something about him feeling the same fear towards her. Next weeks chapter will be back in the present time.


	9. Chime

Wheatley stared up at the ceiling with dull blue eyes.

It was nearly light out now, and he hadn't slept all night. He had tried for awhile but every time he closed his eyes he saw Chell. He saw how scared she had looked the night before when he had yelled at her, how her soft beautiful voice had twisted into something bitter and sharp that she had thrown at him like a knife.

That was the worst part about all of this, in his opinion. She didn't like to use her voice in the first place, he knew she didn't, but last night he had upset her enough to use it as a weapon.

Wheatley had scared her. He could remember a time not very long ago when he was afraid of her, too, and he knew that being afraid of her had made it harder to help her. At first it had made him less willing to help her. Wheatley was extremely lucky that Chell was helping him to begin with after everything he had done; making things harder for her was only going to hurt both of them. He needed to be more careful about what he said.

Wheatley sighed and rolled over on the couch. He had left his room a few hours ago after he had realized that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. He thought that he might as well get up and wait for Chell so he could apologize. Again.

He lay flat on the couch and watched the dusty shafts of light migrate slowly over the ceiling until he heard the quiet creak of a door.

Chell had been awake for most of the night. What little sleep she had managed had been plagued with nightmares of Him and Her, and the rest of the night she had spent staring up at the ceiling while angry, guilt ridden thoughts chased each other around in her mind.

Eventually she had decided that she might as well start the day early, and she had gotten up and dressed and put her hair up. She stayed in her room a little longer after that, knowing that he would probably be there waiting the moment she opened the door and she wasn't ready to face him yet.

Chell wasn't sure how to handle him after what had happened last night. He had blatantly ignored her wishes, frightened her so badly she couldn't move, yelled at her (or at least she thought he had. She wasn't sure after how calm he sounded when he took her wrist.), and shaken her emotions badly enough to make her speak: to snap at him.

She had thought that things were getting better between them; now she wasn't so sure. What she was sure of was the fact that she couldn't hide in her room all day. Chell would have to face Wheatley eventually, so she might as well get it over with.

As she had predicted he was there and talking the second she opened the door.

Wheatley sprang up from his slumped position on the couch and nearly ran to greet Chell as she emerged from her room, reminding her of a dog greeting its master.

"'Mornin, love!" He chimed a little too cheerfully, flashing her a charming smile that fell a little flat.

Chell's only acknowledgment was to give him a weary look before she stepped past him. Wheatley followed her into the kitchen, stopping at their invisible border between the kitchen and the breakfast nook. Breaking her rules wasn't going to help anything.

"How are you?" He asked quietly.

She pawed lightly at her eyes, giving him a tired look. He felt a pang of guilt: Chell hadn't slept either because of what he did.

She started to walk away but before she could get anywhere she felt a light tug on her sleeve. She turned around to find Wheatley giving her a guilty look.

"Look... I'm really really sorry. About everything, but, at the moment, I'm mostly sorry about... How I behaved last night." He bit his lip as he looked up at her. "I shouldn't have pushed you to talk when I knew you didn't want to. You don't have to talk to me ever again. I wouldn't blame you. I don't deserve it." He broke eye contact for a moment as he wrung his hands. "I just... I thought I should apologize again because, honestly, I'm so guilty I couldn't sleep all night. So. I'm very sorry. Again."

There was a moment of silence that he wished he had expected. Despite what had happened the night before he still wanted to hear her talk. It hurt that she had spoken to him once (in anger) only to return to silence the next day.

"Wheatley." Her voice was every bit as beautiful as he remembered it, if not more so. It was soft and warm, free of anger and laced with sympathy. The sound was light enough that Wheatley swore he could almost see her words (well, word, in this case) float around her. He was certain that if her voice was tangible it would be something so pure and delicate it would melt at a touch.

And she had used that beautiful voice to say his name.

For the first time in a long time Wheatley was at a complete loss for words. It took him at least a full minute to realize that he was supposed to respond, and that was only after she started giving him a concerned look.

"Yes, er, um, Chell?" He scrambled.

The voices raged inside her head, flames of anger fighting rigid shards of icy guilt. She knew she couldn't stand for both, not at once, so she picked one and moved on.

Chell shook her head as she gave Wheatley a soft smile. "It's not your fault."

He blinked at her, scrunched up his face as though he'd suddenly tasted something sour, and blinked at her again. "Well... Um... Not that I'm trying to be difficult or anything, but, um, yes it is. My fault. Actually." He shook his head as he gave her a guilty but serious look. "Because, you see, I understood that you didn't want to talk, but since I wanted to hear you talk I just kept pushing you until-"

"Yes. But I didn't have to listen." She didn't sound angry but a healthy dose of stubbornness was beginning to leak into her voice.

He shook his head. "I still shouldn't have tried to talk you into something you didn't want to do."

Chell didn't respond this time. Instead Chell opted to look him up and down, wearing an expression vaguely reminiscent of the faces she'd made back in Aperture when she'd been trying to solve a test.

Though now she wore a smirk.

Wheatley could tell that she didn't want him to see it by the way she kept pressing her lips together into a thin line and scrunching her eyebrows in a fake confused expression (Wheatley should know, she had given him plenty of confused looks before), but after a moment she gave it up, releasing the smirk along with a soft huff of laughter. She then pressed her hand over her eyes and shook her head.

"What?" He asked, trying to suppress a smile of his own.

"You." Her voice was warm and her eyes sparkled when she spoke.

"What about me?"

"You're different." She said softly, her eyes brightening a shade as she looked up at him.

He was different.

Even before Wheatley had turned on her he hadn't been the greatest companion Chell could have asked for. He had insulted her, haphazardly thrown her into deadly situations on multiple occasions, and blamed her for things they both knew she had nothing to do with; now Wheatley apologized profusely for every little thing he did (not that this particular thing was a little thing, but still), obeyed all of her rules (even now he was standing safely outside their invisible kitchen border), and, most importantly, he wouldn't let Chell take the blame for anything bad even if she tried. Aside from a few thoughtless remarks and what had happened the night before, Wheatley had behaved surprisingly well the entire time he had been living with Chell. Suddenly what had happened seemed insignificant in comparison to what had happened before; what could have happened instead.

Things could have gone a lot worse and Chell knew it. She also knew why things hadn't happened that way.

"I think you're getting better now."

Wheatley still hadn't fully recovered from the last thing she had said, so this had caught him completely off guard. He knew it was a compliment that meant many things at once, and suddenly he felt infinitely better. This tiny little conversation (their first real conversation), though about half of it had been spent arguing (nicely), eased the tension between them so much that it was almost as if their argument the night before had never happened.

Chell seemed to feel the same way because soon she was giving him another one of her mischievous smiles.

"Come here." Her eyes glistened as she took his hand in hers. "There's something you need to see."

Wheatley didn't object as Chell lead him out of the kitchen, though he was surprised when they stopped at the front door of the house. She had been putting this off for long enough; he was ready for it now.

Wheatley hadn't been outside since That Day, which had now been over a month ago. By the time they had reached Chell's house it had been dark, and the only thing Wheatley really remembered from the outside world was wheat and darkness. Not that taking in the scenery had been his main concern at the time.

Now he gave Chell a nervous look as her hand wrapped around the door knob, not sure if he was ready to become part of a world full of dangerous, unpredictable elements that had nearly killed him just a little over a month ago.

As she opened the door Wheatley was stunned into silence for the second time that day.

The surface was beautiful.

The air was crisp, cool enough to be refreshing but yet not cold. The first rays of light were creeping silently over the horizon, making everything around them glowed gold in the early morning twilight. The sky was painted with soft pastels while the trees were adorned with vibrant shades of red, and orange, and yellow, the wind making their leaves drift gracefully to the ground like confetti.

But the breeze carried more than just leaves.

Soft music could be heard on the wind, a sound that, to Wheatley, almost sounded familiar. As he turned to find its source he finally noticed the thing Chell had brought him to see in the first place.

On the other side of Chell's house, a little ways away, there were shadows that slowly took the forms of houses. More houses lay beyond that and a few houses lay beyond that. Warm, cozy light pierced through the silhouettes, proving that the dwellings were occupied.

Wheatley had to take in the scene about five times before he actually realized what it meant. A growing sense of dread crept up his spine as he realized they were in a town full of humans.

Author's Note:

Oooooooooh, did I actually finally get a little bit of plot going here?

Wheatley and Chell are living in a town full of people. Now that Wheatley is starting to learn the basics of being a decent human being, how do you think he's going to treat people who aren't Chell? (That's kind of a scary question, isn't it?)

A town full of people=ocs. Lots of ocs. I'm going to try not to ruin this with horrible cheesiness as I add them in. Please be patient with me.


	10. Fruity

As a fresh wave of fear slowly began to swallow Wheatley whole, he did what he always did when he felt he was in trouble: he turned to Chell.

She didn't look nearly as alarmed as he did.

Her sterling silver eyes were pools of calm, lit with fondness as they carefully scanned over the town. It hit him then that she had been living here the entire time he had been gone (however long that had been), and she likely saw this place (wherever it was) as her home.

Which meant that he should probably be careful in wording his current feeling of alarm so as not to insult her.

"We're in a town... Full of people." Wheatley stammered.

Chell waited a moment before responding.

"Something like that." She said softly. "It's tiny. It runs to the end of the road and then stops." She paused, taking in the scenery again before her gaze returned to him. "They call it Horizon."

"Horizon," He made a strange face as he said the word, almost as if he were tasting it. "That's a strange name for a town, isn't it?"

"Not really. That's how people find it: you can see it on the horizon. It's the only thing around for miles and miles." She trailed off, her gaze drifting to what Wheatley realized was the beginning of the street the town surrounded. "It's a nice place. They're nice people."

Wheatley wanted to ask Chell how she had found this place. He wanted to know how the people here had treated her when she was new to town, and whether or not she had told them about There. The last question alone would probably be a fair evaluation of how much Chell trusted them.

Wheatley shook his head.

"It's not them I'm worried about." He gave Chell a nervous look as he bit his lip. "I'm not so... Great... At this whole being human thing."

Chell looked up at him, half smiling half frowning. "Neither am I."

That comment actually earned her a laugh. His was different from her musical little giggles; his was more of a punctuated 'ha'. He shook his head at her as he smiled.

"Very funny." He snorted. "At least you know... What it's like. There. They don't. They don't know what I- what we've been through." He smiled at her weakly. "I don't know how well I'll be able to fit in with people like that."

For some reason Chell had thought that this was going to be a lot easier for Wheatley. He liked people, or, at the very least, he liked her. He loved conversation and contact- just being able to look up from whatever he was doing and see another person was enough to make Wheatley happy. As long as he had one of the three he was practically in heaven.

So Chell was a bit perplexed as to why he seemed so afraid of meeting more people.

Maybe she shouldn't have been, though, because in all honesty there weren't may things Wheatley wasn't scared of. He was scared of the dark, he was scared of loud noises, he was scared of animals- just about the only thing Wheatley wasn't scared of was Chell. (Most of the time.)

"Wheatley."

The sound of her voice was soft and sweet, and it calmed him instantly.

"You'll be fine." She gave him a reassuring smile as she slipped her hand into his. "You just need to start small."

She tugged on his wrist gently as her smile turned mischievous.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?" He asked as he followed her off the porch. "It's barely even light out. Is anyone else even awake yet?"

Chell shook her head. "That's the point."

Wheatley followed her down the road the town ran along. It wasn't very wide, only big enough for two cars to drive on at once, but it was long. He couldn't see both ends of it. On this end of the road there were very few building lining the street. Chell's house stood alone save for another small house across the street. Aside from that it looked like she was alone.

"It's kind of... Barren... For a town, isn't it?" Wheatley didn't even have to look at her face to tell she disliked his comment. He could feel it. "No, no, no, I don't- it's not that I don't like it- it's perfectly fine- but I mean, it's just spread kind of thin. Don't you think? I swear I saw tons of little houses when I looked earlier, but now it just looks empty." He used his free hand to rub at his eyes. "Maybe I'm just tired and I'm seeing things."

At that point they were on the other side of the road and Chell released her hold on him. She gave him a serious look that told him he was on to something.

"You saw the east end of town." She nodded away from the end of the road. "This is the west end. There aren't as many houses here."

"Why not?"

The words had only just left his mouth when Wheatley noticed that the land beyond the end of the road was covered in wheat. A landscape that was familiar, and, from a distance, a bit too perfect to be natural.

"Oh." Wheatley swallowed hard. "Do they... Do they know about... Her?"

"Not like we do." Chell continued to glare at the fields as she spoke. "But they know enough to stay away."

For some reason Wheatley found himself smiling despite himself.

"You don't?" He asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Chell's hard expression shifted to something between confused and amused. She suddenly looked very calm.

"You're here, aren't you?" She asked smoothly.

Wheatley snorted.

"How did you pull that off, anyways?" He was trying to sound nonchalant but awe was quickly seeping into his voice. "I know She's terrified of you and all that, but we weren't even inside. And I know there were turrets there, I remember-"

"Shh." Her eyes were lit with something that distantly resembled anger, though her voice was far from angry. "Not here."

"Sorry."

They walked the rest of the way in mutual silence, following a beaten path that branched off from the main road. Soon it took them through a field covered in tall grass, and after that it ended in a nice little patch of trees.

"Where are we?" Wheatley asked.

"My favorite place in town." Chell said lightly.

Wheatley was beginning to think that his definition of town was different than hers.

"This doesn't look like part of town." He mused. "There aren't any buildings or houses or people or anything. It's just... Trees. And fields. And fences."

"It's a farm." She smiled, "Look," For a moment she disappeared up a tree, but she quickly returned with an armful of something.

"Say Apple."

Wheatley was elated. "They can make apples here?" He asked, awestruck.

"They grow apples." Chell emphasized. "They grow all the food for the town. Sometimes I like to sneak out here when no one else is around and help out." She cleaned the dirt out of a nearby basket before dragging it to her feet and disappearing up the tree again.

Wheatley was puzzled. "Why don't you come when people are here? Don't they let you help?"

When Chell reappeared she wore a light a frown as she dumped the apples into the basket. "They do but then they try to... Pay me for it."

Wheatley blinked. "I'm sorry I'm just, I'm lost as to how that's a bad thing."

Chell stayed on the ground for a moment,mahal in her head. "I don't help for the money. I don't want it."

"Have you tried telling them that?" Wheatley offered.

"Yes."

"And?"

"They're stubborn."

Wheatley laughed. "Sounds like someone else I know."

"Hey." Chell retorted, and when she reappeared from the tree he could tell she was trying very hard not to smile.

"What?" He smirked.

In his sudden bout of haughty confidence Wheatley's reflexes had decided that they weren't needed at the moment and they could go on break until further notice. So, when Chell next said "Catch." all Wheatley could do was blink.

"Ow!"

And fall to the ground as he was hit square in the nose.

"Wheatley!" Chell picked up the apple with a slightly annoyed look. "You bruised it!"

"You're- you're worried about the fruit?" He scoffed, though for some reason he found himself wanting to smile. "You chucked an apple at my nose!"

"Tossed." She corrected, leaning forward just the tiniest bit as she spoke.

"That was not a toss!" He laughed, "That hurt!"

"It's an apple." Chell said softly.

"It's a hard apple!" Wheatley emphasized.

"Then you should have caught it."

There was something in her voice that was very new to him. Usually she was so quiet and serious, but she was openly smiling at him, and it was like her voice was dancing around in his head.

"Wh-" He shook his head, his smile growing as his voice turned sly. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Me?" Chell asked innocently, gently batting her eyes as she pressed a hand over her heart.

"Yes, you." He pointed a finger at her teasingly. "Did you try to pelt me with fruit because I called you stubborn?"

Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. "I would never."

"Mmhm."

"But you did call me stubborn." She mused, looking up at him innocently. "So if I did hit you with an apple, even if it was an accident, you might have deserved it. Just a little."

If that was how she wanted to play, Wheatley thought, then he would just have to give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Catch!" He yelled, tossing her an apple while her back was turned.

The difference, of course, was that this was Chell. So instead of simply blinking and watching the projectile hit her in the face, she swiftly turned and caught the apple without even looking at it.

"Thank you." She gave a satisfied smirk as Wheatley's jaw dropped, taking a big bite out of the apple. Her smile quickly faded as she heard the soft sound of footsteps from the tall grass behind them.

"What's that?" Apparently Wheatley heard it too.

"Shh."

"Is it...Her?" Wheatley whispered. All the color had drained from his face as if he had seen a ghost.

"Worse." Chell replied, though again it looked as though she was trying not to smile. "Teenagers."

The moment the word left her mouth they were taken from all sides as five figures jumped out at them.

"ATTACK!"

"AH!"

Wheatley flailed around as two of them took him. He hadn't really understood Chell's last remark (it wasn't Her at least, so they weren't in immediate danger), so he still found being tackled to the ground by complete strangers that he couldn't even see to be a tad frightening.

If Wheatley was honest, though, what was worse than him being attacked was hearing Chell being attack and not being able to see what was happening.

"Take her down!" One of them cried.

The next thing he knew he could see what was happening to Chell, and three of them had her pinned to the ground. Wheatley had to do a double take. Chell was clever enough that she could have taken on all five of them by herself and won, yet there she was, lying in the dirt with three of them practically sitting on her, smiling madly. He didn't understand any of it.

"We've got her!"

The trio hefted her up by her arms, then held them behind her back so she couldn't get free.

"Do you surrender, Chell?" A red haired girl asked smugly.

Chell nodded and Wheatley had to pick his jaw up off the ground for the second time that day.

"Good. You're under arrest."

"Why?" Chell almost laughed.

"For trespassing, abandoning your adoring followers for over a month, and-"

"Who's he?" The girl who had been holding Wheatley asked.

"It's not Michael?"

"It's not Michael." A green eyed boy confirmed nervously.

"It sure sounded like it the way you two were talking." The red haired girl sang.

"That's enough, Auburn." Chell said sternly.

"Who's Michael?" Wheatley asked.

"That's enough." Chell repeated, thought this time her command was a bit more heated. She paused for a moment before she continued. "This is Wheatley." He gave the children an awkward wave. "He's new to town. I brought him here about a month ago, but he's had a bit of a rough time. I haven't been around because I've been helping him recover." When no one made a move to speak she added, "Wheatley, these are the town's children."

"Children." The blonde haired boy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"This is Auburn." Chell nodded to the red haired girl who had pinned her earlier.

"Her apprentice." Auburn corrected. Chell smiled.

"Jake." A boy with black hair and bright green eyes. He was one of the children who had tackled Wheatley.

"Jeffery." A boy with dark brown hair and grey eyes. He was one of the three would had taken down Chell.

"And the twins." These were two children, a boy and a girl, who looked almost identical. They both had curly blonde hair and grey eyes.

"Daniel." The boy said.

"Danni." The girl said.

Jake looked at Chell and shook his head. "We're just glad you're ok."

Auburn nodded. "Mom's mad at you. Shes been worried."

"Everyone's been worried." The twins added.

Wheatley watched as Chell pressed her hands over her eyes and gave a strained sigh.

"They don't need to be worried. I'm fine."

The children seemed used to this response because, while Chell wasn't watching, they quickly exchanged an annoyed look.

"I know." Jeffery said calmly, "Still though, maybe you and Wheatley should go talk to everyone and let them know you're ok."

Chell shook her head. "You can tell them for me. Wheatley and I need to head home."

"Why?" Danni whined.

"Because. You nearly gave him a heart attack earlier; he's not ready to meet the rest of your family. And besides," She gave him a little smile as she took his hand. "I think he's had enough excitement for one day."

Author's Note:

Yea! We made it to ten chapters! Wohoo!

This one almost didn't get finished in time! I finished this chapter just this morning, so it was a little rushed. I plan on going back and editing all the chapters once Pieces is complete.

I tried writing Chell in a bit of a different style this week. In one scene especially she turned out very flirty. But Wheatley doesn't even know what that means, so it's all good. XD

I had a really hard time writing this chapter. Originally the entire thing was about Wheatley meeting the ocs (that he now met at the end), but trying to introduce all of them at once for such a long period of time just made the chapter feel cheesy.

I'm going to try and add more of the ocs in gradually as the story progresses. Not every chapter will contain ocs (next weeks chapter won't). So if you don't like them, please don't give up the story! There will still be plenty of cute moments between just Chell and Wheatley, I promise.

Please keep commenting and voting! Last week's chapter didn't get as many votes or comments as usual. Your feedback means a lot to me so please comment and vote. Thanks!


	11. Lull and Storm

Wheatley awoke in a room so dark he couldn't see his own hands in front of his face. The only thing he could deduce about his environment was a soft rumbling that could be heard in the distance. Everything was black and still, almost peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

"Welcome back." She sang, Her sticky sweet voice echoing through the room. "Did you miss me?"

At the sound of Her voice Wheatley sprang from the floor. He wanted to run, where to he didn't know, but he still couldn't see.

"Chell?" He cried, because if he was back Here with Her, surely she was there too. He had never been alone with Her without Chell, and he certainly didn't want to start now.

"Oh, you're worried about her. Don't be." She said smoothly. "You have enough problems of your own."

"AH!" Wheatley was blinded as the room was suddenly filled with light. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but after that he could see with perfect clarity. And what he saw almost made him wish the room was dark again.

The facility was falling apart around him. The walls were rumbling and quaking as they fell apart piece by piece in a massive mechanical avalanche. Panels were dropping from the ceiling, the floor was buckling underneath him, the walls were crumbling into nothing, and beyond all this mess of grey and black and white, Wheatley caught sight of a tiny speck of orange.

"Chell?" He called, breaking into a run as he attempted to dodge the panels falling around him. "Chell!"

She was pinned under a metal beam that had fallen from the ceiling. Chell was still alive, her eyes bright and alert, but they were also filled with emotion and pain. She was struggling to free herself with no luck, and he couldn't reach her.

"You didn't honestly think she could save you, did you?" She asked softly, her voice almost sympathetic. "She can only do so much. She's only human. You are too, now."

Suddenly the ceiling caved in, metal slamming against metal, and then Chell was gone and Wheatley was trapped.

"NO!"

He was scrambling, trying to get free, trying to reach Chell- he had to get her out- but he couldn't even see her, and now he was being buried too.

"I want you to remember that it doesn't matter how safe you think you are."

"Chell!" He cried again.

"I'm still going to kill you." She hissed, "You're still going to die."

Wheatley awoke to find that the house was shaking. The sky outside was flashing back and forth from dark to light, and a terrible sound was crackling through the air so loudly that it hurt.

"CHELL!" He screeched, his previous terror now mixing with a new one.

Wheatley dove underneath the blankets of his bed and wedged his head under his pillow. Surely this had to be the end of the world. Back There, a long time ago when it had still been full of people, Wheatley had heard humans talk about the sky falling before, but they had always laughed soon after mentioning such things; he never thought that such a thing ever really happened on the surface. But he believed it now.

"Oh God!" He yelped, squeezing his eyes shut at another flash of light. "OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod!" Now the ground was quivering again. "CHELL!" He choked, ducking back under the blankets.

Wheatley wanted for her to rush in and fix everything, but the sensible part of him knew that she was probably still asleep: if he wanted her help he would have to go and get it himself. Which meant he would have to leave the safety of his bed.

"Ok, ok, ok- this, thing, is pretty loud, whatever it is, so maybe Chell is already awake, and I can just quietly insert myself into her room- just to keep her company. To keep her calm, during, the, possible, likely, end of the world. She probably won't be that mad as long as- YIKE!" He pulled the blanket back over his head for protection as light flashed into the room and he dashed out of it.

"Hey, um, lady? Chell?" He knocked softly on the door to her room. "I, um, I know you're probably, er, sleeping. I'd imagine that's what just about everyone in town is doing at this hour. Sleeping. It's dark out, so that's natural for, um, for humans." He gave a squeaked as the floor shook. "I know that we had a deal, we made a sort of, silent deal, back when you were still 'mute', um, that I would stay out of your room here, and never wake you up when you're sleeping- ever again- believe me, I learned my lesson on that one. Immediately. But, there's this tiny thing, this little thing-" His voice was rising in pitch as he spoke, the blanket clutched tighter and tighter around him. "And it's that, I think, the world may very well be ending." He listened. "I'll let that set in." Silence. "I'm very sorry to break such horrible news at such an awful hour, but I felt that you had a right to know." He was making an attempt to sound calm; it wasn't working. "I also thought that... Maybe, you might like to see me-" "One last time. Before we all die." "So, if you could just open the door?" He knocked again, louder this time."Please open the door!" At she hadn't opened the door by this point, Wheatley thought, it could only be because she didn't want to. "Ok, ok, ok! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I know that it's the middle of the night, and I'm waking you up, and asking to break your rules- at this point I'm really just blowing the rules out of the water- but can you please just open the door?"

Chell had been sitting in bed listening to Wheatley call for help for a few minutes now. It wasn't because she was angry with him for trying to kill her Then or waking her up now; she hadn't answered immediately because she already knew the solution to this problem and she did not like it. She knew Wheatley. If she opened that door he would barge into her room without hesitation. He would be too scared to return to his own room, she would be too much of a sap to make him, and before she knew it he would be spending every night in here with her. And every day, too. Because this rule, the stay-out-of-my-room-or-you-might-not-come-out-of-it rule was the most important rule of all. They both knew it. Chell knew that if she let this rule go she'd be giving Wheatley permission to come in here any time he liked, and permission to break all the other rules she had set, too. She wasn't sure it was worth it.

After all, it was only one night. Wheatley might be scared now, but the storm would pass soon enough. He would call for her out in the hall for awhile before he realized that she wasn't coming out. Then he would go back to his room, hide in his bed, and fall asleep. The storm would pass. If he was cross with her in the morning she could tell him she didn't know what he was talking about: she had slept soundly through the night.

It seemed like a solid enough plan to Chell and her practical side was more than ready to execute it, but the rest of her was not

But the sound Wheatley was making was horrible. He sounded like a puppy left out in the rain, whimpering and crying for help. He sounded scared and abandoned. Wheatley wasn't stupid either; they were going to reach a point where he figured out she was hearing him perfectly well, she just wasn't listening. He was beginning to sound as though he'd already reached it.

She opened the door.

"Wheatley."

Her voice was softer than usual, and she sounded as tired as she looked. She was about to tell him that everything was fine, it was only a thunderstorm, he could go back to sleep, but when she opened the door she saw a frightened Wheatley with a blanket wrapped around his quivering frame, looking up at her with helpless blue eyes.

Or at least, that's what she saw for about two seconds before he darted into her room.

Before she could stop him (or blink, for that matter,) he sprang inside like a cat and dove into her bed, wedging his head under her pillow and hiding under the blanket he'd brought with him.

After a moment he peeked out at her. She swore the fear disappeared from his eyes for a moment when he caught her expression. "Oh," He squeaked, curling tighter under his blanket at her slightly annoyed gaze. "didn't you say I-I could come in?"

Chell crossed her arms and shook her head. Once again he could tell that she was trying not to smile. This time she was doing a better job of it, though.

"No? I thought you did. I could've sworn-" Violently bright light invaded the room and Wheatley's voice became muffled and shaken as he burrowed further down under the blankets for safety. "Alright, I know you don't forgive me, and you probably don't trust me, and I'm breaking your rules-" His voice became even quieter. "And I should probably stop talking because I'm really not helping my case at this point," He shifted, his voice twisting. "But, something is very very wrong. I think the sky is falling!" He choked, "I'm serious! And I know you don't want me here in your room, but the thing is, any time anything is wrong, there's this little voice in my head, and it's always saying: find Chell! Get Chell! Because-" She couldn't see but it almost sounded like he was on the verge of hysterics. "No matter what's wrong- no matter how bad or big or small it is- you can always fix it. Always. You always make everything better." He cringed as the thunder finally reached them. "So, please!" He yelped, "What is this? And, can you please make it stop? Please!"

Chell took a moment to asses everything his words and his movements before she carefully responded.

"Calm down."

It wasn't the most sensitive thing she could have said, but, to be fair, Wheatley was practically hyperventilating at this point, and if he didn't stop he was probably going to pass out. He didn't respond verbally but Chell noticed his breathing slow just the barest bit. It still wasn't good enough for her. "Scoot over." She nudged him to the other side of the bed as she climbed under the blankets next to him.

Once she was under the covers she pried the blanket out of his hands and off of his head, revealing a very frightened, disheveled looking Wheatley. Chell wasted no time in sweeping the blanket over him and settling him under it.

"What-What are you- doing?"

Wheatley knew what she was doing. Chell had done this every night for the first week he had lived with her: she would give him his pillow and blanket, fix them for him, and make him lay down and go to sleep. The difference here was that she had already fixed the pillow and blanket, and he was already laying down. And now she was laying next to him.

"Helping." She said softly. Now that Chell looked back up at him he almost seemed more alarmed than before, and she had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Apparently now Wheatley was more terrified of her than the storm outside.

"I don't-"

Wheatley's breathing was getting much worse and he was trying so hard to get away from her he was about to fall off the bed. She looked him in the eye for a moment before gently capturing his wrist. That was all it took for him to remember that he liked contact, and after that he allowed Chell to take his arm and wrap it around her in a sort of hug.

"Get your breath." Now that her head was resting against his chest she could really hear how bad it was. He obliged, shifting and slowly gulping down air until the rise and fall of his chest was steady again. "There you go."

Wheatley buried his face in her hair as lightning streaked across the sky, tightening his grip on her. She smoothed her hand across his back in response.

"You know what electricity is?" Chell asked.

Wheatley almost scoffed.

"I was, I was a core. Of course I know what electricity is." He might have sounded snobby if his voice wasn't so meek.

"The light is natural electricity. The sound, the ground shaking, it's just the sound the light makes."

"That's it?" He whimpered.

"That's it." She echoed. "It can't hurt you here. You're safe inside."

They lay in silence for awhile, listening to the storm rage outside. The rain was beginning to ease and Chell could tell that it was starting to move out. Next to her Wheatley was beginning to relax. He shifted so his arm was no longer beneath her but draped over her shoulders and around her back, still hugging her. His head rested in the crook of her neck.

"Thank you." He mumbled. "I'm glad you're ok."

"Why?"

"I had one of those... dream things... about...Her. And you." He tightened his hold around her. "You lost."

"I've had dreams like that too."

"Really?" Wheatley knew that she was human but sometimes it very hard for him to believe that she was afraid of anything.

"I used to have them every night."

"God." She felt him cringe. "That's horrible."

"It was." She agreed. "It was Her." Wheatley couldn't help but notice that her voice was heavier than usual. "It was like I was finally free from-"

"There." He interjected.

"There." Chell said quietly. "But, I still wasn't free from Her. I realized that it was me that wouldn't let go of Her."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't get over everything that had happened. Even thought it was all over, I couldn't let go of it. It was too much." He felt her shake her head the barest bit. "So I tried to focus on what I had gained instead of what I had lost."

"And the nightmares just stopped?"

"Not over night," She smiled at her pun. "but they lessened quite a bit."

"Do you ever have nightmares now?" Wheatley asked hesitantly.

"Sometimes." Chell admitted. "They don't scare me as much now. Before I would wake up from them and all I could think of was There. Of everything that happened." The heaviness was slowly ebbing out of her voice. "Now I think about how lucky I am. How it's finally over. Now I have a life of my own, and a town full of people who care about me-"

"And now you have me too." Wheatley interrupted softly.

Chell giggled, snuggling into his chest the tiniest bit.

"And you too." Suddenly she turned solemn. "You don't have to worry about Her anymore, Wheatley. She can't hurt you." Chell squeezed his hand. "I won't let Her."

Wheatley couldn't see her face but she sounded determined.

'Stubborn.' He thought with a smile. He still hadn't forgotten that little argument.

"Thank you." He said softly.

Thunder boomed somewhere outside the window, but this time Wheatley didn't even flinch.

Author's Note:

The first of eight is complete! *pumps fist*

I've been waiting to write this one for awhile now.

How did you like it? I finally got to write some GLaDOS dialogue and fluff! Yea!

I hope you liked this chapter! Please review!

ALSO

This is the magical month of December, and to celebrate Christmas with you lovely folks I'm going to post a Christmas fic for Pieces on Christmas Eve. I'm going to try and make it four chapters, but that means I'll be writing eight things this month. So I can't promise anything, but I'll try my best.


	12. Rise

On That Day something fell from the sky.

Chell and the rest of the town watched in horror as it shot across the sky, scarring the sky behind it with dark streak of smoke. For the short time it was there it was almost too bright to look at: it was moving so fast they heard it break the sound barrier. That wasn't what alarmed Chell the most though: what truly frightened her was that, as it fell from the sky, she swore she heard it scream.

Everyone else was worried about what it was. Where it had landed. If it was dangerous. Chell knew the answer to the first two but not the third.

She opted to go find out.

They reluctantly allowed her to do so, nervously eyeing the sea of wheat in the distance. Only two people had ever returned from there, and neither one of them had been in good condition when they had done so. They told her to be careful, that she didn't have to do this if she didn't want to. She told them that she did.

While they returned to their homes Chell donned her Aperture orange jumpsuit and set out towards the shed. The sun rose lazily behind her as she trekked through the fields, and by the time the shed was within seeing distance it had already risen far above her. She had enough light to see clearly now.

But Chell still did a double take at what she saw when she reached the shed.

Chell hadn't expected to find Wheatley on the surface. She had expected something more along the lines of an open shed door and a sarcastic "Welcome back." requiring her to plunge back down into the depths of Aperture and break Wheatley out if she wanted to save him. Which wasn't going to happen.

During the trek to the shed Chell had come to an agreement with herself that she would not go back inside Aperture for any reason. If Wheatley was on the surface and it was a matter of picking him up and hauling him back to Horizon she would do so; but she wasn't going to risk her life for him after all he had done. Chell knew he wouldn't do that for her.

When she reached the shed she was surprised to find that Wheatley was on the surface, but she was more surprised to find that he was no longer a core.

Wheatley was human.

He was laying at her feet in a crumpled heap of lanky limbs and Aperture orange, looking more pathetic than after She had crushed him as a core. Chell realized that, now, she didn't have much of a choice over whether or not she would save him. As horrible as it sounded (even to her), saving a little robot was very different than saving a human being.

It was also much harder.

"Isn't it a lovely day?" Chell looked up to find that she was being watched. A small white camera was mounted on the shed, following her movements while relaying Her voice, which was lighter than Chell had ever heard. "The birds are singing, the sky is nice and blue. I even saw a deer this morning." Chell gave the camera an annoyed glare. There were currently more pressing matters at hand than the weather. "I'm sorry, am I too peppy for you?" She asked innocently, "It's just that I'm having such a wonderful day. Your replacements have been testing day and night for weeks, I recently found an entire wing of the facility brimming with test subjects, and now I'm finally reuniting with you again after all these years. How are you?" Chell glared down at Wheatley, then back up at the camera. "Oh." The happiness drained from Her voice. "The first time you stop by for a visit in over three years and you didn't even come to see me. I should have expected as much." Chell could practically see Her shaking Her head. "Don't worry about him, he's fine. For now."

Chell disagreed. Wheatley looked thin and dirty and fragile. He looked frail enough that he might snap in half at a touch. Chell watched him shiver by her feet for a moment before She spoke up again.

"I could kill him, but, out of the two of us, I'm not the killer. You are. So I'm going to let you decide." Two turrets rose out of the ground on either side of the shed, both pointing their scarlet beams at Wheatley. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

It was a trap and Chell knew it: She wanted to steal her voice and her emotions at the same time. She expected Chell to save Wheatley, to want to save him. If Chell openly admitted that that was what she wanted she would be exposing an emotional vulnerability. She would see it, and She would exploit it: hurting both of them at once by killing Wheatley. Chell didn't want that, so she did the only thing she could think of. She deviated.

"Why?" She warped her voice into something stronger than its usual whispy lightness. She needed to sound strong and angry. Using her voice in such a way hurt her throat but she kept at it.

"Why what?"

"Why would I want to help him?" Chell demanded.

"That's a good question."

"He used me, he betrayed me, he tried to kill me." Chell glared down at Wheatley with bright grey eyes. "He's selfish and egotistical. He can't do anything right. He never shuts up." Her voice turned soft again, unable to hold up any longer. "Have fun. I'm not taking him."

Chell gave Wheatley a detached look before she turned her back to him and the shed and began to walk away. She didn't get very far.

"Wait."

'Reverse psychology.' Chell thought to herself.

Chell making it sound like she didn't want Wheatley would (hopefully) accomplish two things. One, GLaDOS would think that making Chell take him would serve as a punishment to both of them, making Her force Chell to take him. Two, it would remind Her that She wouldn't want to put up with him for very long because it would likely punish Her just as much as it would punish him. Or at least that's what Chell was going for; there was a chance that GLaDOS would see right through her.

Chell obeyed. She turned back around and looked up at the camera stoically.

"If you want him dead, that's perfectly fine with me; but like I said before, I'm not a killer." Chell swore the camera's optic narrowed at her. "I'm going to leave him here. If you leave he dies. Not because I killed him, but because you didn't save him." Her voice was slowly filling with conviction. "That would make you a killer. A real killer. You'd be killing another human being."

Chell glared fiercely at the camera for a moment before she bent over to help Wheatley up. He came to as she touched him on the shoulder, immediately recoiling from her touch and looking up at her with terrified blue eyes. Her expression remained stoic as ever.

"This is much better for everyone. I get to clear my conscience once and for all, you get to reunite with your old friend, and he gets to live another day. It doesn't matter that you two spent half your relationship trying to kill one another. Or even that he was the first person you trusted in years and he repaid you by stabbing you in the back and smashing you down an elevator shaft. I'm sure you've both changed for the better." Chell and Wheatley exchanged a doubtful look.

"Do what you want with him. I don't care as long as you keep him away from here."

Chell nodded at the camera before she lugged Wheatley to his feet.

'I will.'

Author's Note:

Two of eight!

This was a flashback chapter about the day Chell found Wheatley outside of Aperture. You've heard the characters refer to this day as That Day previously in the story.

I had a hard time getting all that GLaDOS dialogue to sound (vaguely) in character. I'm still not sure that what happened in this chapter was very clear. Sorry. I plan to revise this chapter in January, so you'll get a better version then.


	13. Sky

When Chell had told Wheatley to head towards the house across the street he had listened without hesitation, but when he realized that he was alone with two total strangers he began to regret his decision.

"Hello!"

These humans were much older than the children he had seen on his first outing with Chell. Wheatley would even go as far as to say that these were the oldest humans he had ever seen. Both of them had bright white hair, though the lady's was swept into a neat bun while the mans was short and thinning. They shared the same kind brown eyes, but the mans looked up at Wheatley from behind a pair of thickly framed glasses.

The two of them were sitting together on the steps to their porch, and from the way they sat nestled together with their arms linked Wheatley gathered that they must have been a couple.

"Er... Hello!"

Suddenly Chell materialized beside him and the woman on the porch perked up, rising from her perch on the step and opening her arms.

"There's my Chell!" She gushed, trapping her in a hug while smoothing a hand over her hair. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Wonderful." Chell gave her the most brilliant smile Wheatley had ever seen. "And you?"

"Marvelous." The woman giggled as her husband kissed her hand.

"We're just out enjoying the fresh air while we still can." He piped up. "Soon it'll be too cold. We'll be trapped in the house all day." He wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders as she settled back beside him on the step.

"What are you two up to this fine evening?" The woman asked with a smile.

"It's a surprise."

"Oh." For some reason the woman winked at Chell and, to Wheatley's surprise, she returned it. "Well then, we won't keep you."

"Have fun!"

They waved goodbye to the couple before turning and continuing to the end of the road.

"They seem nice." Wheatley smiled. "Who are they?"

"Wayne and Elizabeth." Chell said fondly. "Our only neighbors."

"Why do they live out here?"

"They like the peace and quiet." Wheatley turned back around to see them cuddled up together as they surveyed the scenery. "There's lot to do here, too. If you know where to look." The sparkle in her eyes told Wheatley that she did. "There are trails to hike, places to fish, places to swim. It's beautiful out here."

"Is that where we're going?" He asked curiously. This entire trip was the spontaneous product of Wheatley making a comment about the weather, only for Chell to turn around and give him one of those wonderful, terrifying I've got an idea and I'm dragging you along with me looks.

"Something like that." Chell smiled, taking his hand. "I'll show you."

It took awhile but she did. Chell tugged Wheatley along a little dirt path through a forest he hadn't known was there. It was hidden, nestled behind the farm Chell had shown him previously. This path ran alongside the farm before it began to twist and turn around the trees. Chell and Wheatley were led through the trees, past quiet little streams, and walls of rock jutting out of the earth. By the time Chell announced that they had reached their destination the sun was setting and Wheatley was exhausted. Originally he had been sure that anything Chell had wanted to show him would be well worth the hike, but now that he was actually there he was beginning to think otherwise.

"A hill?" Wheatley asked bluntly.

"Yes." Chell smiled.

"We walked all this way for a hill?"

She smirked. "Try not to sound so disappointed."

"No, no, I mean, it's fine. It's a very nice little hill, its just that, I've seen hills before." Wheatley could tell that his voice was coming out as annoyed, and though he didn't particularly like it, he didn't change it. "There are a bunch of them right by the house."

"I know."

"Then why are we here?" His arms flopped to his sides. "I don't doubt you- you make sense in the end- usually," Chell shot him a strangely amused warning look. "but I don't understand the point of coming all the way out here. For a hill."

"It's special." Chell said softly.

"Why?"

"Look." She pointed towards the top of the hill.

"I still don't see anything."

"Then let's take a closer look."

She took his hand again and led him up the hill.

Wheatley liked this gesture despite the fact that it wasn't quite as necessary anymore. Chell could easily speak and tell him where to go now; she didn't really need to lead him around like a toddler. But Wheatley enjoyed being lead around by Chell. For one thing he liked the contact. Her hands were so small and nice and soft, and he had gotten used to the feel of them wrapped around his. For another thing Wheatley was sure that, even with directions, he would be hopelessly lost without Chell showing him where to go. Or just without Chell in general.

When they reached the top of the hill Wheatley plopped down on the ground before Chell could release her hold on his hand, effectively pulling her down with him. She gave a quiet (adorable) little squeak as she landed in a heap on his chest. Before Wheatley could comment Chell quickly sat up and shot him a death glare.

"Whoops." He offered weakly.

For a split second the spark in her eyes ignited into pure fire and Wheatley was certain he was doomed, but then it flickered into something softer. She smiled down at him sweetly, her eyes sparkling, before she flopped down unceremoniously against his chest.

"Oof!" Wheatley coughed. She had about knocked the wind out of him.

"Whoops." Chell said innocently.

"That hurt! You're heavy!" Wheatley realized his mistake too late. "I mean, you're not heavy as in, well, fat, but you're still heavy. You still weigh quite a bit."

"Thanks." Wheatley couldn't help but notice that Chell was doing the thing where she sounded insulted and amused at the same time.

"Oh," He teased, "You know what I mean." She shook her head. "No? How about this then? You're perfect, and I'm just cross because I bruise easy. Fair enough?" He smiled.

"Fair enough." He couldn't see her face (as she was still sitting on top of him) but she didn't sound insulted.

"Alright." Wheatley nodded. "To give you and your hill some credit: it is nice out here. Very pretty." He turned to see how she would react to him acknowledging the fact that she was right, something he didn't do nearly enough, but he was quickly distracted when he noticed that she was smiling at him. Not one of her usual smirks or I'm-trying-to-suppress-a-laugh smiles, this was a happy, pure, open smile like the one Chell had given the neighbor earlier. She was practically radiating fondness. Chell had never smiled at him like that. Now she was looking at him strangely, too. Why was she looking at him like that? Had he been saying something? "Er... It's a very pretty little hill. Nice scenery. Lots of... Nature. Trees. Bushes. Shrubs." He looked away and scraped up a handful of leaves off the ground, eager to change the subject. "Leaves. Leave, everywhere, actually. What happened to them? Thought they were supposed to be attached to the trees."

"Not always." Chell twirled the stem of a leaf between her hands. "In Autumn there's less daylight, so the leaves change color and fall off. They're gone all winter and grow back in the spring."

"So does everything just... Die... In the winter?"

"No. It just... Goes to sleep for awhile." Chell looked up at the tress. "Everything comes back in the spring."

Wheatley had changed the conversation to something too depressing and now he was ready to change it again.

"We really should head home. It's getting dark out now. I have no idea how we'd find our way back in the middle of the day. Now we're going to have to hike all the way home in the dark." As he spoke he looked around and realized just how dark it really was and went into full panic mode. "Oh God! When did it get so dark? How are we going to get home? What if we get lost and never make it back?"

"We won't." Chell sounded amused again.

"And it's getting cold, too! Remember what the neighbors said? It gets cold when the sun goes down. We could freeze to death out here!" Wheatley shuddered for good measure.

"We're going to be fine." Chell said, "Hush."

"Chell!" He whined. "It's cold!"

"Fine. Here," Chell removed herself from her perch on his chest and layed down next to him on the ground, snuggling into his side. "Is this better?"

It took Wheatley a full thirty seconds to recover enough to respond.

"Er... No? I mean- no!" He snatched Chell's hand up before she could move away. "I mean, don't move. You don't, you don't have to move, if you don't want to. Just because this isn't much better in my opinion, don't let my, er, unhappiness displace you. You're perfectly fine right where you are. Unless, unless you'd rather sit somewhere else. You can sit there. That's fine. You don't have to sit there, if you don't want to, but, um-"

"Wheatley," Chell rested her head on his shoulder. "I forgot to mention something."

"What?" He asked weakly.

"Look up."

He did, and he immediately realized why this hill was special.

Above this hill there was a gaping hole in the canopy of trees, which allowed anyone on the hill a beautiful view of the sky. Not only that, but it was far enough away from town that there were no lights to block out the stars.

So when Wheatley looked up he was met a view of the night sky that was somehow ten times as beautiful as what he'd seen when he'd actually been in it. There was hardly a blank space in sight. Stars were scattered absolutely everywhere, twinkling down at them happily from their perch in the sky. It was hard to look away.

Eventually Chell broke his train of thought.

"When you mentioned the weather earlier I knew it would be a perfect night for stargazing. There are no clouds but it's cold, and the cold helps make the sky look clearer."

"How on earth did you find this place?" Wheatley breathed.

Her voice was softer than usual. "I came here all the time when I was new to town."

"Why?" He was looking back up at the sky now, so he was thinking even less than usual when he spoke.

"So I could see you."

That got his attention.

Wheatley whipped around to see that she was smiling at him again, the same way she had been earlier, only now there was something a little more gentle about it.

"You're- Really?" He choked, "I-You-" He swallowed in an attempt to regain his speech. "You, you got out. You got out of There, you found a town full of people who, who obviously adore you," He shook his head as she smiled. "You got everything you wanted- and you were still worried about me? After everything I did?"

"Yes." Chell said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I wouldn't have gotten out if not for you." She brushed her thumb against the back of his hand. "And That wasn't you. That was Her. This is you." Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He managed, his voice cracking pathetically.

She smiled at him for a moment longer before she turned and returned her gaze to the stars. Wheatley didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was distracted by what she had said or the view of the sky, but for some reason he couldn't look away from her. Chell looked more relaxed than he had ever seen her. She was laying comfortably next to him, smiling. Warm pressure at his side. She almost looked as though she was glowing, her skin giving off ghostly pale light in the darkness. It was almost as if the stars were having some sort of magical effect on her. Chell's eyes were always lit with some sort of spark but now they held the entire galaxy. The reflection of the stars in her eyes was much more beautiful than the actual view itself.

Wheatley had never seen her like this before- never looked at her like this before- but now that he was he began to wonder why he was just now noticing all this. How could he have missed it?

Chell sighed, snuggling into his side as she shifted. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes." Wheatley murmured, but it wasn't the sky he was talking about.

Author's Note:

What could Wheatley be talking about...?

Three of eight!

Most of the ocs in this fic are recycled, but Wayne and Elizabeth are new. And I love them.

In this chapter we have more fluff! This is another chapter that I've been waiting awhile to write. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Christmas is next week! And since Christmas Day falls on a Friday this year you guys will get an update to Pieces on Christmas Day! Along with a (hopefully) four chapter Christmas fic for Pieces on Christmas Eve! These will be the last updates you guys get until February fifth of 2016, as I am exhausted from attempting to write eight updates in one month. I'm going to take a break to rest, plan things out in a little more detail, and get ahead of the updating schedule. After January we'll back to Friday updates, which I'm going to try to continue throughout the rest of the year. If I can do that Pieces will be finished with the last chapter being posted on the first Friday of January, 2017. We've got a long way to go.


	14. Opposite

Wheatley awoke to the sound of Chell talking to someone else. She had left one of the windows in the bedroom cracked open to let some air in (they were having surprisingly warm weather for late autumn), but apparently said window also allowed for easy eavesdropping. Not that Wheatley would ever purposely eavesdrop on Chell, he would never, but if she had been the one to leave the window open, and it just so happened that Wheatley could somehow hear her conversation from where he was laying in bed, well, that wasn't his fault. Was it?

"What do you say?" The voice was firm and teasing at the same time.

"Hello Michael." Chell giggled.

Once the voice had a name Wheatley dropped eavesdropping and settled for spying. He sprang out of bed and plopped down beside the window to see a man with blonde hair and bright green eyes looking expectantly down at Chell. So this was the infamous Michael.

"Nope."

"Hi?" Chell offered.

"No."

She hesitated and when she spoke again her voice was softer. "Sorry?"

"Sorry because?" Michael prompted.

"You're so pushy?" Chell asked innocently.

"Do you honestly think that's what I was going for?" Michael asked dryly.

"Maybe."

"Oh 'Shell," He sighed dramatically. Inside the house Wheatley made a face of disgust. 'Shell? That wasn't her name. Why did Michael call her that? "Why do you have to make everything so hard?"

"It's fun." Chell smirked.

Michael sighed again as he made his way up the porch steps and stood beside the porch swing Chell was sitting on. "Let's try again." He settled beside her on the swing and took her hands in his (Wheatley didn't like that either). His voice was doing the annoyed and amused thing that Chell's used to. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I left?"

"And?"

"I came back?"

"And?"

"I didn't tell you?"

"Bingo."

Chell turned away and took her hands back. "I'm not sorry for those things."

"Really?" Wheatley couldn't help but notice that the amusement was leaving his voice. "Because if I took off to God knows where and disappeared for a month without telling you I was ok, I am 100% sure you would murder me. Yes?"

Chell snapped back around with a fiercely determined glare. "Yes."

"But when you do it it's ok?" He poked her on the shoulder, seemingly un phased by the glare.

"Maybe." Chell mumbled.

"No. The answer is no." Michael lifted Chell's chin so she was forced to look into his eyes. His expression was serious but his voice was soft. "Would you ever forgive me if I did something like that?"

Chell gave an exaggerated sigh. "Probably."

"Are you sure?" Michael smirked. "You're pretty stubborn."

"Me?" Chell pressed a hand over her heart and batted her eyelashes at him. Inside the house Wheatley almost fell over: that was the exact same thing Chell had done with him the day they had visited the farm. And that wasn't the only similarity. Whatever had been in Chell's voice that day, that sort of smug happiness she had boasted, this entire conversation was dripping with it. "What about this?" Chell offered. "Do I earn forgiveness if I tell you what happened?"

"Maybe." Michael said teasingly.

Chell shifted. "I went back There."

And to think that Wheatley had disliked the conversation before.

As if it wasn't bad enough that this man was here sitting so close to Chell and holding her hands and making her laugh, it sounded as though he knew about Aperture, too. And if he knew about Aperture, he might know about what had happened there.

"Really?" Michaels voice was a mix of apprehension and awe.

"Yes."

"And does your return have anything to do with... Something falling from the sky?" Wheatley froze.

"Someone." Chell said quietly.

"Someone." Michael repeated. "Is it who I think it is?"

"Yes. And no."

"Uh oh." For some reason Michael had suddenly decided this was all very funny, because he was smiling almost uncontrollably.

"What?" Now Chell sounded annoyed.

Michael leaned back and smiled at her playfully. "You've gone soft, haven't you?"

Chell looked insulted. "Soft?"

"It's finally happened! 'Shell the mighty has fallen!" Michael snickered.

"Will you hush!" Chell snapped as she smacked him on the arm. "She left him There to die! I am not a killer!"

"She might disagree with you." Michael sang.

(Wheatley pressed his hands to his face. Had Chell told him everything?)

"And you agree with Her?" Chell asked stiffly.

"Of course not," He took her hands again. "I'm just worried about you."

"You don't need to be."

"You sure?" Michael asked. "You may have done the right thing by saving him, but you're now living with a man who has repeatedly tried to murder you." Inside the house Wheatley was beginning to feel sick. "I don't take that lightly. You shouldn't either."

"I don't." Chell smirked. "I'm stubborn, remember? I remember what he did, but I also remember that he didn't do anything bad until-"

"Until he was given the option." Michael said solemnly. "He did what he had to do while he had to do it, but once he was given a chance to choose, he turned on you."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely." Chell said firmly. "I don't think that was him. It was Her."

"Are you sure?" Michael asked seriously.

"No." Chell smiled. "But I haven't been sure of anything in a very long time, and I've still made it this far."

"That's why I'm worried." "You made it out of There and lived to tell the tale. You've got a shiny new life, a town full of people who love you, this lovely little house." For some reason Chell giggled. "I don't want you to lose it all." Wheatley could see him squeeze her hands. "Because of There. Because of him." To Wheatley's horror Michael looked at him square in the eyes, though only for a second before he turned back to Chell. His voice softened. "I don't want to lose you."

"Now who's gone soft?" Chell asked gently. "I can take care of myself. Besides, he's been nothing but kind to me since he's been back. If he meant to hurt me he would have done it by now."

"Did he mean to hurt you before?" Michael asked quietly.

"We aren't There anymore, and you were never There to begin with." Chell said firmly. "I appreciate your concern, but you don't understand what happened then or what's happening now."

"Right as usual," Michael sighed as he rose from the swing. "But I still don't trust him. I don't think you should either."

Much to Wheatley's dismay, Chell didn't argue.

Author's Note:

I am so sorry! This was supposed to be post on Christmas Day (and it was, on Wattpad) but in my Christmas morning rush I forgot to post it here! I didn't realize this until today, so you do get a Friday update! Whoops!

Michael is one of my oldest ocs. He is one of my favorites, though he may not be yours. XD He isn't always too much of a Wheatley fan but he's just looking out for Chell.

Merry belated Christmas!

I was pretty scared this one wasn't going to get done in time. I got up at eight in the morning on Christmas Eve to finish this! I'm happy I got it done.

We made it through 2015! And what a wonderful way to end the year! I managed to write eight updates for the month of December, and you guys helped get Pieces to over 1000 views!

Pieces will not be updated at all during the month of January (except for this chapter), but weekly Friday updates will return in February. Hopefully I'll be able to continue those regular updates until January of 2017. Around this time next year we will only have one chapter left!

Have a happy holiday, and be sure to read the Christmas fic for Pieces if you haven't already! Thank you!


	15. Rip

Wheatley had no idea what was going on.

He was tired and broken and sore and at this point he honestly wasn't sure if he was still alive. His core was in terrible condition. His hull was torn and bent in so many places that it looked as though it had been constructed out paper, then attacked with a pair of scissors. He was fairly certain that something inside of him had snapped in half because he could no longer rotate his optic assembly, not that there would be much point in doing so when his optic was damaged so badly that his vision kept fizzing to static.

The little core was in sad shape. He had been terrified of death and dying his entire existence, but at that point he was beginning to embrace it.

Maybe even hope for it.

"I'm... Dead." Wheatley stammered. The last thing he remembered was lying in the dirt on the surface after having crash landed back on earth. He remembered feeling mildly alarmed because it appeared that he had landed in some sort of field (a very dirty field. He could feel his systems being clogged up with soil and dust, as if they weren't already damaged enough.) and said field was on fire. Wheatley wasn't quite sure why the field was on fire (because of him, he later realized), but he knew that he didn't want to be on fire (he already was, he later realized), and if he was a in a field that was on fire and he didn't want to be on fire that probably meant that he needed to get out of the field. The only problem with that was that Wheatley couldn't move. He was once again confined by the laws of gravity (Wheatley so very tired of science), he did not have a rail, and he there were no nice ladies around to pick him up. Wheatley was stuck.

Meanwhile his systems were more concerned with the fact that he (and they) had just fallen from space. Nothing was working, everything was broken, and there were no management rails or service stations for miles (they couldn't be expected to work under these conditions!). So, in a flippant, desperate move that Wheatley himself likely would have pulled had he been in their shoes, his systems decided to shut him (and themselves) down until he could be repaired. Preferably by someone else.

The last thing Wheatley had seen was a horrifying blue screen of death (something taken much more literally by AI) before he had blacked out. Now he was terribly confused. For one thing, he was no longer on the surface; wherever he was now was blindingly bright and blissfully silent- not that he was complaining! If Wheatley had to choose between a fiery death on the surface or a brief rest in a nice quiet room, he would choose the latter in a metaphoric heartbeat. The problem wasn't really where he was, it was how he was: none of his systems had been repaired. His core was still the scorched mutilated mess it had been before. The only difference was that it was no longer on fire. (Which, admittedly, was an improvement, just not the improvement he had been looking for.)

So if Wheatley had been moved but not repaired, and no one who could have moved him was in sight...  
"I'm dead, aren't I?" The little core breathed, sounding half terrified and half relieved, "I fell from space, and now I'm somewhere all shiny, and bright, and white, so... I'm in android heaven. As um, as opposed to android-"

"Hello."

Wheatley froze, all thoughts of heaven immediately evaporating from his mind at the sound of Her voice. Needless to say, he knew where he was after that.

Wheatley was in Her chamber.

He was angled so that he couldn't see Her; only Her shadow on the wall he was facing. The little core watched Her shadow gently glide back and forth across the wall, then yelped as it suddenly passed over his core.

"Oh God!"

"Yes?" She purred.

He caught the joke but was too petrified to respond. She made no indication that she'd expected differently.

"I would say that your pessimistic behavior towards me is completely inappropriate considering the fact that I've just saved your life, however, I only saved your life so I could end it myself." Wheatley could feel the glare of Her optic burning into his hull like a sun. He couldn't decide whether or not it was a good thing he couldn't see it. "Does that make any sense to you?"

It took Wheatley a moment to realize that She expected a response this time, then another moment to choke one out.

"Um... No. No not at all, except for the part about you killing me, but to be honest I'm hoping I misunderstood that part as well." His lower shutter rose in a half hearted smile, which, when paired with the microscopic blue dot of his iris, only succeeded in making him look more pathetic and helpless than he already did.

She hadn't thought that was possible; not that She cared.

"I brought you back so I could punish you." She said darkly.

"Oh." Wheatley squeaked. In front of him Her shadow returned to snaking back and forth across the wall.  
"The lunatic and I mapped out your punishment in great detail while you were trying to kill us, but since then I've found a few flaws in our plan. For instance, if we put you in the room where all the robots scream at you, it probably wouldn't be long before you started trying to chat with them. They obviously wouldn't respond, but then, that's never stopped you before, has it?"

By this point Her voice had turned sticky sweet. Not nice, happy sweet like honey, Wheatley thought but dark, nasty sweet like grape flavored cough syrup.

They both knew what She was talking about.

"No." Wheatley answered meekly, peering up at the wall in front of him.

"No." She echoed. "Still, spending a decade in a room where you'd never shut up would punish the robots much more than it would punish you."

He wanted to argue with Her, or beg for forgiveness or repair, or even ask what She had done to the lady, but some little voice in the back of his head told him it was pointless. Bombarding Her with questions wasn't going to disprove Her theory about him talking too much.

She continued.

"I thought about leaving you in space, but abandoning my technology to float out in the open for anyone to see or take made me worry it would be stolen, which punished me." Based on the way She said this Wheatley gathered he was supposed to feel guilty about it. He didn't. "So I thought and thought, and finally I thought of this."

Wheatley shivered as the patch of floor in front of him suddenly began to disappear. Tiny mechanical arms snaked up from the eerily lit room below (what both AIs knew to be the core transfer room, which was far more frightening and menacing than either one of them could describe), greedily snatching up panels and dragging them back down into the darkness. An all too familiar core receptacle rose out of the floor in their place.

"It's the worst punishment I could think of," She purred, "and that's saying something."

"What is it?" The little core asked, weakly eyeing the platform in front of him. Whatever She had in mind would undoubtedly be very painful if it involved equipment used for a central core transfer.

"Think of it as another kind of core transfer."

Wheatley blanched. Obviously he had already expected the core transfer bit, but one of the more important details of his usurping Her throne had just come careening back to him. Namely his first act as reigning king.

"Oh God, you aren't going to put me in a potato, are you?" He asked, his fear momentarily forgotten, "Because, I know I'm in no place to argue with you, but that would be a bit unoriginal. 'S been done."

"I'm not going to put you in a potato, moron." She hissed softly, Her voice an impressive mix of hatred and calm as Her shadow swallowed his core, "I'm going to put you in a human body."

Wheatley froze for a moment, and suddenly he felt much smaller, and broken, and helpless. His iris, which had shrank to about the size of a pixel, flitted up at Her shadow desperately. His shutters lifted in a forced smile as he offered a desperate, fake laugh.

"On second thought, I think I'd prefer the potato." He choked, "Can I be a potato? Please?"

"Turning you into a potato, while it would be entertaining, wouldn't teach you anything." She said smoothly, "Where's the value in a punishment without a moral seeded in?"

"That sounds great, really it does, but I learned so much in space- about how you and the lady were right and I was wrong- about everything-" He added urgently, "that I'm not sure I need another lesson. I think I got it all in one."

She gave a musical sort of hum as a claw swung down from the ceiling.

"I highly doubt it."

Before Wheatley could so much as blink he was snatched up from his spot on the floor and whisked into the air. The sudden movement caused his vision fizz out as an array of sparks popped out of his chassis.

"Oh, God-" Wheatley gasped, still unable to see but able to feel that he was being moved, "Is this- Are you-"

" _Surprise_ ," She sang, "We're doing it now."

"But- lesson!" He cried, choking on a simulated breath, "The-The lesson! I already learned the lesson, so I don't need another one!" He screamed, "I don't need this! _Don't do this!_ "

"You deserve this." She said softly. "This isn't as simple as right and wrong; this is about fear."

At the word fear there was a sort of wave across the wall as all the white panels in the room flipped to grey. The bright white lighting was replaced by a soft red glow, and even the light of Her optic seemed to change shades with it.

The claw that held Wheatley carried him over to the core receptical, dangling him over top of it but not dropping him into it. He was safe for the time being.  
"Speaking of fear," She added, "Why don't we talk about her?" At the mention of the lady Wheatley caught himself looking for her (more or less literally) to come and save him. Unfortunately she was nowhere in sight, which meant that she was dead, or being tested, or free. Wheatley sincerely hoped it was the last one. "You were scared of her because she was supposed to die. Everything you did should have killed her. You're an idiot but even you knew that much." Wheatley couldn't tell whether or not that was a compliment. "The turrets should have made her bleed to death, the neurotoxin should have made her suffocate, and the explosion should have scorched her. When you saw those things fail all you felt was fear because that mortal little lunatic was going outlive you, and you were a God." She admitted this begrudgingly. "You thought that she was somehow unaffected by your attacks and your traps, but she wasn't. You did hurt her, I saw it." Wheatley couldn't help but notice that, for some reason, talking about the lady was making Her more angry than talking about the potato incident had. She had sounded annoyed then, but now Her optic was glowing brighter and the claw Wheatley was being held by was gripping him tighter and tighter by the second. "The turrets made her bleed. The neurotoxin made her choke. The explosion made her burn." Beneath Her anger She almost sounded pained. "You were so worried about her being immortal that you never noticed just how _human_ she really was." She shifted towards him, Her voice twisting. "Being human is _suffering_. Did you know that?" Wheatley did not. The only time he had ever thought to apply the whole human thing to the lady was, admittedly, when he had tried to kill her. Before then he'd been happy to forget, or ignore, the fact that she could feel anything aside from happiness. "She had to worry about sleep deprevation, hunger, thirst, pain, emotions- but she rarely allowed you to see it. Not that you paid much attention." She shot the core a glare that made him flinch. "At one point she was lying on the floor in front of you, gasping for air, but you were too busy defending your power and screaming at her to notice. She was dying, by the way." Wheatley cringed, not because of what She had said, but because he didn't remember it. He didn't remember seeing the lady hurt or in pain; he remembered seeing her alive: he remembered being angry. Surely if he had hurt her that badly he would remember it, wouldn't he? Of course he had been mad at her at the time, but somehow Wheatley felt that seeing his lady hurt, and knowing that he was the cause of it, would have been enough to snap him out of his power craze. "She had just been blown up, she couldn't breathe, she was frightened." The core shivered with fear and guilt as his processors turned to ice: She sounded a bit too emotional to be lying.

The two stayed silent for a moment as they thought over what She had said. When She spoke again the wavering emotion had vanished from Her voice, replaced with pure hatred.

"That's the lesson you're going to learn."

Wheatley yelped as the claw abruptly swung into motion, jamming him onto the receptical before snaking back into the ceiling. He wanted to try and roll away (at this point he was desperate), but the sudden movement and fear made his vision fuzzy with static, and before he could so much as blink his handles were clamped down with restraints.

"You thought you knew fear before? You thought you knew pain?"

Wheatley began hyperventilating as the platform began moving down below the chamber to the core transfer room. He remembered how painful the last core transfer had been, but at least then, in a way, he had had the lady there with him, waiting for him on the other side. Now he was alone, being pulled down into the darkness by Her. For a moment the platform stopped and everything was still.

"You were wrong."

And then there was pain.

Wheatley screamed as what was left of his core was violently torn apart by an army of mechanical arms. They pried at his chassis until they tore his handles off and cracked his hull open, revealing the mechanics beneath. Then they attacked those too. The little arms began rearranging the core's wires, removing some of them completely and attaching others to another machine nearby.

"Now you're going to feel what it's _really_ like to be small and insignificant. You're going to feel what it's like to be _human_." She growled, "Now _you're_ going to feel what _she_ felt every time you tried to kill her."  
During all of this Wheatley struggled against the restraints (to the best of his ability: he was only a metal sphere after all), but they held. Whatever those little arms were doing hurt far worse than the core transfer had. That had only broken his hull; this felt more like his conscience was being ripped from his core. This was more like there were two of him being pulled apart at the same time, and he could feel both of them. So Wheatley did what any sensible person would do in his situation: he screamed.

"HELP!" He wailed, "LADY! HELP ME, PLEASE! I'M SORRY! DON'T LET HER DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE! LADY!"  
Half of him was far too focused on the pain to think about what he was saying; the other half of him remembered how the lady had been his first and only friend, and how she had managed to save him two or three times in the brief amount of time they had spent together. That part of Wheatley knew that she was the only person who could save him, and so he cried for her with everything he had.

"After everything you did to her, you still have the nerve to cry for her to help? Pathetic." Not surprisingly She was indifferent to his suffering. "She wouldn't help you even if she could hear you. She isn't the kind to forgive and forget. Trust me, I know."

Wheatley felt something he could best describe as lag as his screams were stopped. He suddenly felt very weak and tired, but he was relieved as the pain dulled considerably. Everything ached but it no longer felt as though he was being ripped apart. He was almost beginning to relax when another platform spit him out back into the chamber above.

"There," She said happily, Her chassis arcing down gracefully to get a closer look at him, "Was that so bad?"  
Wheatley was too busy trying to breathe to answer. He had somehow managed to catch himself before he landed on the floor in an awkward heap, but now his arms were quivering under his weight and his head hurt and he was trying to breathe and he was being forced to look down at his hands and dear God he had hands.

She was obviously amused.

"It suits you."

Wheatley wanted to respond, however, when he attempted to speak he broke into a violent coughing fit which caused him to fall over as his arms gave out beneath him.

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't take your voice. I thought about it, though." She said smoothly, "Long term stasis can have a few... Side effects... On test subjects. Temporary loss of hearing, sight, smell, taste, speech, and life are a few of them. I wouldn't worry about it too much, though; I'm sure you'll be fine."

Wheatley looked up at Her pleadingly.

"I'll give you a minute."

That was good enough for him. He collapsed back down on the floor, shivering and curling in on himself. He had been given a jumpsuit that was almost identical to the one the lady had worn, but the facility was still freezing cold. Wheatley lay there and tried to calm down, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing, and he almost managed to fall asleep before She sounded off an air horn of all things, shattering the once peaceful silence of the room, along with the calm Wheatley had established in it.

"Alright. Your minute is up." She purred as he glared up at Her, "Time for part two of our little lesson."

At that his glare melted away.

"Don't look so scared. I'm only doing what you did to her." Wheatley felt horribly guilty for thinking so, but that wasn't very reassuring. "On a smaller scale, of course. I didn't have time to set up an explosion or fire a portal on the moon; I'm not even going to put you through everything you did to her: I'm not that cruel."  
Wheatley curled up on the floor again. Something about this whole being human thing, whether it was the actual procedure he had been put through or the emotions he was feeling now, was making him feel very sick.  
"Just cruel enough to fill the room with neurotoxin then suck all the oxygen out." Wheatley turned green: She wasn't helping.

He had just figured out this pesky breathing business, and now She was going to go and fill the room with unbreathable air? Was that really necessary? Was She joking?

He looked up at Her dubiously, scrunching his eyebrows together.

 _'Are you joking?'_

She shook Her head, Her optic narrowing.

"No, I'm not joking."

She wasn't joking. Much to Wheatley's dismay the air around him was quickly turning as green as his face had been moments before. Breathing was already hard enough (he'd only been doing it for about three minutes), now he was coughing so hard he could barely get any air in.

"I know, you can't breathe." She said, sounding unconcerned. "That hurts doesn't it? She went through the exact same thing, only she did it while running around, being blown up, and holding onto you. You can't even think. Your heart is racing, you're flopping around like a fish, you're so scared you're hyperventilating," At this point he couldn't see, or breathe, or even really move of his own accord. Wheatley was far too panicked to do anything but lay there and gasp for air. "You act like this one little thing is going to kill you; she went through it twice without batting an eyelash."

She watched him for a minute longer before allowing fresh air back into the room. Wheatley choked and sputtered over his breathing again.

"I could do this with everything you put her through. The betrayal, the fall, the test chambers." Anger began seeping back into Her voice. "Maybe that would teach you how badly you hurt her, or how stupid you really are. Maybe then you would understand why you don't deserve forgiveness."

That wasn't what Wheatley wanted, not by a long shot, but after seeing how much he had made the lady (who had somehow turned out to be even stronger than he'd already seen her) suffer in the past thirty seconds, he would be lying if he said he didn't deserve it.

"Unfortunately I don't have time for that. Now that the lunatic is gone I can finally do some science in peace, and I'm taking advantage of it. I've wasted enough of my time on you."

Wheatley swallowed. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No." She suddenly sounded very tired. "I'm going to let you go."

"What?" He croaked.

"I'm going to take you to the surface." As She said this the panels beneath him began to shuffle. The next thing he knew a lift had appeared from the floor and he had been dumped inside of it. "I'm not going to kill you, but if you want to live out there you'll have to get up and work for it. Lay around being useless like you are now, and you'll find your way to the afterlife without my assistance." Wheatley didn't find that advice helpful or reassuring. "I would help you to your feet, but really, I've helped enough for one day, haven't I?" The lift moved upwards and the world turned black. "You can do the rest."

Author's Note:  
Well here we are again. It's always such a pleasure.  
*blows dust off the screen* We're back ladies and gentlemen! :D I'm so GLaD to be back!  
I'm sorry this got kind of dark! If you're an Aperture Science Personality Sphere that may have been a bit too graphic. My apologies. I hope I haven't scarred you for life. XD  
Some random things:  
1\. I had a lot of technology related problems while writing this chapter. XD Word on the laptop I was using died, I thought I lost this chapter (which was over 2000 words at that point) and was going to have to start all over, then I got my chapter on my tablet, which stayed frozen for about thirty minutes when I went to write on it the next day.  
2\. This chapter is the longest yet at 4199 words!  
All in all it took me over two weeks to write this chapter. It could honestly still use improvement but if I spent too much more time on it I would have no extra chapters stored away. I had to move on. XD  
3\. I have a beta now! Let's all give a big thank you to NoivernOfFandoms (on Wattpad) who is reading over my chapters now, so my silly typos will be no more. Thank you!

I'm so so happy to be back. I'm sorry that our hiatus was quite a lot longer than expected, and while I will reveal the reason why I don't want to discuss it. I'm still not ready.

Something really terrible and tragic and sudden happened and one of my best friends died _two days_ before we were supposed to get back up and running for the year, and I just couldn't write for a long time after it happened. Lots more crazy things have happened since (not necessarily bad things but stressful things XD), but now we're back and I'm thrilled. Better late than never, right? Let's finish this thing.


	16. Itch

Chell did not know that Wheatley had "overheard" her conversation with Michael, but she did know that he had been acting strange and pouty all week and something was wrong. Usually when Wheatley found himself in trouble (which he did quite often) telling Chell about it was the first thing he would do, but after the seventh day of this strange behavior it was becoming clear that he was hiding something from her.

Meanwhile Wheatley thought he was doing an excellent job of being secretive. Chell had not questioned him once all week, and since the week was nearly over he figured he had (somehow) made it into the clear. It wasn't that Wheatley enjoyed keeping secrets; he was usually absolute rubbish at it as he was such a chatterbox, and he hated keeping things from Chell (especially considering how well things had been going between them in the last few weeks), but for some reason Wheatley felt that keeping this particular secret from Chell was important, for both their sakes.

There was something about Michael that brought out the worst in Wheatley. He had only seen the man once, yet after that brief encounter his mind was stuck on how close he had been to Chell, how teasing his voice had sounded when he spoke to her, and how, for some reason, Chell didn't mind any of it nearly as much as Wheatley did. It made something inside his mind _burn_. He knew what it was: that was why he didn't want to tell Chell. If she found out what Wheatley already knew, then all the rules would be reinforced, she would probably stop talking to him, and they would be back to square one. All the progress they had spent months making would be for nothing. Besides, even when he tried to tell Chell he got all hot and fidgety and his words wouldn't come out (a problem he had never had before). For some reason it felt like telling her about this meant telling her about a lot of other things too.

Chell watched him as she entered the living room with two steaming hot cups in her hands. This was a nice little ritual they had taken up since the weather had turned colder: in the evenings she would make herself a mug of hot chocolate and Wheatley a cup of tea, and they would cuddle together on the couch and watch tv reruns or talk.

Chell already knew which one they would be doing tonight.  
"What's wrong?" She asked softly as she handed him his drink and her fingers brushed his.

"What?" Wheatley started so badly nearly spilled his tea in his lap.

"You've been awfully quiet lately," She smirked, "What did you break?"

"I didn't- break anything?" Wheatley sat up a little straighter, nervous. He was not very good at lying, and he had a feeling he would need to very soon. "I haven't broken anything. I'm just, I've been quiet. What's wrong with being quiet? I thought you liked quiet."

She smiled into her hot chocolate. "Quiet doesn't suit you."

"So you don't like _me_?" Wheatley snorted, a teasing tone creeping into his voice.

Chell chuckled. "I like you _most_ of the time."

"Yeah? And what about the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time you're acting like this." Chell said bluntly, poking him square in the chest with her free hand. "Self loathing, and brooding, and quiet. You've been like this all week. That's how I can tell that something is wrong." She shot him one of her determined, I'm-being-serious-and-you-better-not-lie-to-me looks for good measure.

Wheatley quickly averted eyes to his tea. "Nothing is wrong, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Chell asked skeptically.

"Maybe." He squeaked.

"Maybe?" Chell echoed.

"You'll," Wheatley shifted away from Chell while looking down at her uneasily. Maybe it was her imagination but it looked as though his face was turning pink. "You'll get mad at me, if I tell you. You'll be annoyed."

Chell shook her head, offering a small smile. "I'll live."

Wheatley swallowed hard. Obviously he was going to have to tell her something, but he didn't want to lie and he was afraid of her reaction to the truth. He decided to tell her the cause of his problem and hoped she could figure the rest out for herself. Perhaps if she did she could let him in on it.

"I... When I woke up the other morning I heard you... talking to someone."  
"And?" Her expression and her voice were morphing into something a little bit harder- more skeptical- and Wheatley could tell that she was expecting what he said next.

"And... I may or may not have listened to your entire conversation after that." He offered a sheepish smile but Chell would have none of it.

"Wheatley." Her shoulders bounced microscopically as she gave an annoyed huff of laughter.

"Well! In my defense you left the window open. It's not like I snuck out on the porch or went out of my way to listen to you, I was sitting in bed." His face turned pink as she shot him another questioning look which he quickly remembered he deserved. "Erm," Wheatley chuckled, looking down into his tea for guidance and not finding any. "Or at least, I _was_ sitting in bed until I decided to get up and sit by the window so I could ... Um... watch, too."

" _Wheatley_." The two syllables were laced with utter disappointment and he flinched at hearing them. "Here I am trying to convince someone that you're trustworthy, and meanwhile you're sitting there spying on us." Chell suddenly sounded very tired. "Do you not trust me?"

Wheatley flailed so violently he nearly spilled his tea for the second time that night.

"Of course I trust you!" He scoffed, looking down at her as dubiously as if she'd grown a second head. The last thing he wanted to do was make Chell feel bad, that's why he had wanted to keep this to himself to begin with. "You're not the problem! _He_ is!"

"You've only ever seen him one time." Chell said as she pressed a hand to her temple.

"It doesn't matter!" Wheatley cried, "He was touching your hands, and your face, and your arm- at one point he practically had you _sitting in his lap_! Doesn't he know that you don't _like_ contact like that? How long has he been living in this town?Because I've only been living here for a few months but even I know you don't like-"

Something inside of him turned to ice as he met her eyes. Chell was looking up at him intently as if he were a puzzle she was trying to solve. He could practically see the metaphorical wheels in her head turning as a microscopic smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled as her expression turned to something caught between alarmed and coy.

"What?" Wheatley asked nervously. His face lit up pink when she didn't reply. " _What_?"

"Why does that matter?" Chell asked softly.

"I don't know," Wheatley shifted, avoiding her eyes as his faced turned a deeper shade of pink. "I don't, I _like_ contact, but the way he kept shifting and moving around and poking and prodding you, just watching that made me uncomfortable. Fidgety. Like, like I should get up and do something about it instead of just sit there and watch. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I don't like the thought of, of you being uncomfortable. You being uncomfortable makes me uncomfortable."

His face was bright red by the time he finished speaking, but his answer seemed suitable enough for Chell because she stopped looking at him as though she wanted to pry him apart and look inside his head. Though he couldn't help but notice that her little smile remained.

"I appreciate the concern, but everything is fine. Michael wasn't bothering me. He's a friend."

"I'll say," Wheatley snorted under his breath. "He was being awfully friendly."

Apparently he hadn't been quiet enough.

"Wheatley." By this point Chell had traded disappointment for anger. Her eyes were lit up, burning with bright, hot determination, and he knew that he should shut up but he didn't want to.

"What? You can't tell me that didn't bother you one tiny bit. I won't believe you. If I did all that to you you'd probably knock me straight back to the moon, no portals necessary. But he does it and it's fine? Why? What's the difference?"

"I trust him." Chell said calmly. For some reason that made her words sting even more.

"Why don't you trust me?" Wheatley whimpered.

Chell didn't give him a verbal response but Wheatley could tell by her expression that if she spoke she would ask something along the lines of _'Do I really need to answer that?'_

"Alright, I know why, but that was such a long time ago, wasn't it?" He tried to take her hand but she wouldn't let him. "I've been here for months now and I've been a perfect angel for all that time." That statement earned him an even more skeptical look from Chell. "Well, maybe not perfect, but you get my point. I haven't done anything horribly wrong, have I?" Maybe it was only his imagination but he swore her expression softened a bit. "I just, I though things were normal between us again. I thought we were friends."

"We are." She said gently. "You're right: you've been back for a long time, and in that time you haven't done anything to hurt my opinion of you. You've actually behaved better than I expected." Chell gave him a small smile. "It's not that I don't trust you; to be honest, I probably trust you more than I should."

"Then what's the difference?" He asked quietly, trying his best not to sound whiny.

"I haven't been able to trust you for very long." Chell said simply. "You have to understand that my relationship with Michael is different than my relationship with you because I've know him longer. I've trusted him longer." Wheatley shifted back and crossed his arms. "I'm ok with him sitting with me and holding my hands and even touching my face because there are years of trust between us. He's earned it."

They sat in silence for a moment before Chell's previous coy expression returned.

"Wheatley," She asked softly, "Are you jealous?"

He instantly turned red.

"Jealous?" He scrambled, " _Jealous_? Jealous of _what_? Jealous of him? Why would I be jealous of him?"

"That's a good question." Chell said smoothly.

"I'm not- you're being silly, you are. I'm not jealous of anyone, I'm just trying to take up for you because I care. And then I'm rewarded with a lecture about how that bloke is wonderful and I'm untrustworthy. Jealous." He scoffed, crossing his arms. His face was brighter than she'd ever seen it.

"Was that a no?" Chell smirked, her face still stuck in a smile she knew she shouldn't be boasting.

"Yes!" Wheatley snapped, "Yes to no!"

"That's good." She rose from the couch, collecting their mugs and bringing them into the kitchen. "You really have no reason to worry over Michael, Wheatley."

"What makes you say that?" Wheatley asked weakly.

He couldn't see her face but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was smiling.

"He's married."

Author's Note:

TO CHELL! :D

Just kidding! XD I was going to make you guys wait for about half the fic to find out that Michael was a married man, but when I rearranged the chapters it came up a lot sooner, obviously.

This was supposed to be cute and fluffy and I don't know what happened. I think Wheatley was being whiny because he's jealous and he killed it. Jealous Wheatley is way too much fun to write.

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	17. Seize the Day

Wheatley had been invited to the neighbors house with Chell, but he was far too antsy to enjoy the visit. He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Chell about Michael and jealousy and trust, and somehow it was doing something to him, making him hot and red and fidgety like the day he had seen Chell with him. He tried to sit next to her but every time he looked at her his stomach turned to knots (she looked so at home here with these people, she kept smiling and laughing and _talking_. Her voice was so light and airy and sweet. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke and he remembered how those same eyes had held the entire galaxy only a few weeks ago.) he found himself on his feet and pacing within less than a minute. The neighbors were trying to talk to him, they had invited the pair over so they could get to know him a bit, but Wheatley was not his usual chatty self and he brushed most of their questions off with one worded answers.

"Wheatley," Chell looked up at him with an amused expression and tired eyes. This behavior had been going on for about an hour now and he expected her to scold him. "You're making me nervous."

"What?" He skidded to a halt, causing his hosts to chuckle. Wheatley wasn't sure why but for whatever reason they seemed to find him and his nervous little mannerisms endearing. His face turned pink at the attention and he looked down at Chell who was nestled on the couch. "Why?"

"The pacing." She said softly.

"Sorry." He mumbled apologetically, "I can't help it."

"Yes you can. Come sit. Be social." She patted the empty cushion next to her and Wheatley moved to sit there until Elizabeth stopped him.

"Michelle." Wheatley turned to see the older woman giving her a lightly chastising look from her place beside her husband. Her voice was like that of a mother scolding her child, and much to Wheatley's surprise it actually seemed to effect Chell, because her gaze dropped from his face down to her hands. "Be nice. You weren't always so social either, when you were new to town." Despite the fact that she was scolding Chell Elizabeth's voice was soft and sweet. She looked up at Wheatley with warm brown eyes. "Is anything the matter, dear?"

"Oh, um, no." For some reason he found himself looking down at his hands. "No, nothing's wrong I just, um, I'm a bit tired. Just tired. Um, a lot's happened in the past few days, and I'm not really used to all this excitement. Not used to being around so many people, um, not that I don't enjoy it, I do, but, um, I'm just not used to it. It's kind of hard to get used to. Harder than I thought it would be." His gaze flitted to Chell before returning to his lap. "So, um, I'm really very sorry if I'm coming off as anti social with all my, um, pacing and quietness and all that. I'm not trying to come off as antisocial, that is not my goal, but I am sort of tired and lost in thought and... Well not to sound rude but I could use some fresh air." Once Wheatley finished speaking he realized that he had started pacing again and quickly stopped.

Elizabeth gave a soft little laugh. "You can leave if you want to, Wheatley. Don't let us keep you if you don't want to stay."

"Yeah," Wayne added, "If you're jittery, a nice walk might do you good."

"Are you," Wheatley tentatively looked to Chell for approval. "you sure?"

"Go on." She sighed, giving him a tired smile.

"Thanks." He smiled, heading for the door. "See you back at the house then, yeah?"

Chell nodded and with that Wheatley left. Once he was gone Chell gave Elizabeth a slightly amused look that read _why did you do that._

The older woman snickered. "Oh, don't give me that look. I remember the first time you were stuck in a room full of people."

"That was different." Chell said softly.

"I don't know dear," Wayne chuckled, "You made it very clear to everyone involved that you wanted to leave."

Wheatley was very happy that the neighbors had let him go. His mind kept telling him that the things he was thinking were dangerous, and thinking about them while being that close to Chell made him afraid she'd somehow read his thoughts.

They had been living together for a few months now, and everything had been going perfectly until that stupid Michael had shown up. They hadn't argued once since Chell started speaking, she'd started taking him around town more often and introducing him to more people, they'd even gone back to the farm to help the kids pick apples. Chell seemed to trust him again. In the past month especially she was much more open around him: smiling at him, and holding his hand, and curling up next to him on an almost daily basis. Wheatley loved it. He wanted to make Chell happy, and being around her made him happy.

What he hadn't realized (until Michael came around) was that her being with anyone else made him _un_ happy.

As much as he hated to admit it, Chell was right: he was jealous. It didn't matter that Michael was married (though it was a bit of a relief to know that he wasn't going to just swoop in out of nowhere and take Chell away); he still had a better relationship with Chell than Wheatley did. He wanted Chell to trust him like that. He wanted her to be so open with him that a complete stranger could see them together, take one look at them, and think _those two have good history_. And he wanted so badly to tell Chell all of this, to tell her what it really meant, but it was too soon and too risky: he didn't want to lose what he already had in the name of something he could never have.

Chell would hate him if she knew, and if she hated him then he would hate himself.

Wheatley surveyed the street to find that wasn't the only person in town who was having a rough morning. One of the kids he had seen at the farm was pacing the streets, kicking up rocks and dust as he went. It looked as though something was wrong.

"Jake," He called once he was close enough, "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, hi Wheatley." The boy smiled up at him half heartedly as he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Everything is fine."

Wheatley looked down at him skeptically. "That wasn't very convincing."

"I'm a bad liar." Jake sighed.

"Me too." Wheatley frowned at the pavement. "What's wrong?"

"It's... Um... Well, do you remember Auburn?"

Wheatley smiled. "The little Chell with red hair?"

"Yeah." Jake blushed.

"What about her?"

"I... Um... I've been friends with her for... A really long time... And I think I- I like her... A lot... But I don't know if I should tell her." As the boy spoke he blushed and fidgeted and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. Wheatley wondered if that was what he looked like to Chell when was embarrassed.

Speaking of: "Wait, wait, wait," Wheatley thrust out the palm of his hand out in a stopping motion. "Go back. Rewind there. You like her?"

"Um... Yeah?" Jake replied awkwardly, his face turning a brighter shade of pink.

"Like, _like_ her like her?"

"I guess?"

"How can you tell?" Wheatley's arms flailed beside him and if the look Jake was giving him was any indication he couldn't tell whether or not he was being serious.

"How can I tell that I like her?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes." Wheatley nodded exaggeratedly. Maybe, if he was lucky, he was completely wrong and he had nothing to worry about.

"Well... I'm just... Happy when I'm around her. I like spending time with her."

"That's it?" Humans acted like love was a very complex emotion, but that sounded simple enough to Wheatley.

"No." At this point his face was bright red. "It's not just normal happy, it's sort of stronger. And it's only when I'm around her." Suddenly his expression turned to something caught between coy and suspicious as he noticed that Wheatley had turned pale. "Why?"

Now it was Wheatley's turn to examine the ground.

"Just wondering."

"You're good friends with Chell, right?" Jake asked, smiling.

"I like to think so." Wheatley replied, staring at the ground a little harder.

"How do you think she would react if you told her... That?"

"Um..." Wheatley croaked, his face turning red.

"That's what I thought." Jake said wearily.

"Just because Chell and Auburn are a lot alike, that doesn't mean they're the same person. I'm sure Chell is a lot more unpredictable than Auburn." He laughed weakly, "Either that or you've got your hands full."

Jake snickered. "You're probably right. It's just that I've been friends with her for as long as I can remember and I don't want to ruin it."

"I can understand that," Wheatley said softly, not sure where all this was coming from. "though if she's as similar to Chell as you say she is, I don't think that would happen. If she didn't like the idea she might be surprised or even a bit, er, "weirded out", but I highly doubt she would actually be _angry_ with you."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked skeptically.

"Pretty sure." Wheatley nodded, dazed at what he was saying. "It doesn't make much sense that she would get angry with you when you're trying to do a nice thing. When you're trying to tell her that you care about her. Even if she doesn't particularly _want_ to be cared about. She would probably appreciate it even if she didn't agree with it."

"So you don't think I have anything to lose?" Jake asked weakly.

Wheatley looked down at him thoughtfully.

"Do you think she's worth the risk?"

Jake smiled, his face tinging pink.

"Yeah." He said with certainty, his previous coy smile returning as he looked up at Wheatley. "So's Chell."

Wheatley took his sweet time walking home.

Chell was sitting out on the porch swing when he returned, gently swaying back and forth as she read. She looked relaxed, slumped comfortably against the swing with a light smile on her face. A few strands of hair had managed to escape her ponytail and they trailed behind her in the breeze. Wheatley took the liberty of watching her for a moment before he made his way up the steps.

"Hey...um... Chell?"

"Yes?" Sunlight glinted in her eyes as she looked up at him and Wheatley could feel his face turn pink as his stomach did summersaults.

"Can I talk to you, about something?" He asked weakly. "Can we go inside?"

"Sure." She smiled up at him warmly as she stood from the swing. "What do you need?"

"Well, um," He swallowed hard as he tried to avoid her gaze. He closed the door behind them as they entered the house and he followed her into the living room. "Remember how the other day we had that talk about, um, trustworthiness?"

"You mean the jealousy talk?" She smirked as she sat beside him on the floor.

"Call it what you want," Wheatley mumbled to the carpet, "but it... Bothers me." He looked up at her guiltily. "I want you to trust me... and I realize that trust isn't something you can just switch on and off like, well, a switch. I can't... make you trust me again in the space of an afternoon, that would be nice, but it's not how it works. And if you don't trust me, that isn't your fault, it's mine. Though I'm sure that's already blatantly obvious to both of us, yeah?" He gave an awkward laugh as he looked up at her but she looked more concerned than amused. "My point is, I want you to trust me but I understand why you don't. I'm not mad about it. It's not your fault." He gave her a sad smile. "That being said, just because I'm ok with you not trusting me doesn't mean that I'm _ok_ with you not trusting me." Chell gave a lightly teasing smile as she crossed her arms. "I'm not mad at you, I won't hold it against you, but I don't particularly enjoy being, er, not being trusted. So I'm afraid I'm going to _have_ to get you to trust me, again, uh, _eventually._ " He swallowed hard as Chell took his hand."How does one... Go about doing that, though? How do you get someone to trust you after they _have_ trusted you and you blew it?" She brushed her thumb against the back of his hand as he looked away. "I've been thinking about that for a long time. About three years now, to be honest, but a lot this week in particular." He managed to sneak a glance at her. "I think I've finally figured out an answer to it... I'm just not sure it's an answer that either one of us is going to like."

"What is it?" Chell asked softly.

"If.. If I want you to trust me," He swallowed, "I need to be honest with you. Even if I don't necessarily want to... Maybe even if I think the truth might upset you..." He looked up at her tentatively. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yes." Chell felt him flinch as she touched his forehead. "Are you feeling alright, Wheatley? You look a little... Green."

"To be honest, you probably will too, in a minute." He said weakly, offering her a half hearted smile.  
She blinked, resettling in her spot.

"Ok."

"Alright um, so I guess I'll just, um, spit it out, as they say. But first I really want to emphasize that this is crazy, and I _realize_ that this is crazy, and it's probably not something that I should even be telling you, but I trust you and I want you to trust me, so I'm going to tell you. Also, I don't um, expect you to er, _agree_ with this. As some might put it. You're probably not going to be one hundred percent ok with this, and that's completely understandable. I'm not sure I am either to be honest, but there it is. So. Do you still want to hear it, after all this? Cause I'm not sure I want to say it, if I'm perfectly honest. I think I'm starting to talk myself out of it. Maybe I should just-"

"Wheatley." She brushed her thumb along the back of his hand and he shivered. "It's ok. You can tell me."

"Ok. Um, Chell," He forced himself to meet her eyes. "I think... I'm in love with you."

-  
Author's Note:

That escalated quickly, didn't it?

(Jake ships it.)

Here's a little something for you guys to think about: **this was how Pieces was going to end** if I only published the last three chapters I had written. The story almost ended right here. What would you think if this was the ending?

*End of serious thought*

Wheatley did not want to do this and I kind of didn't either. I would've waited longer if I could have. The problem is that every chapter of Pieces is based off a prompt (that's why they all have random titles) so I have to do things in an order that makes everything fit together semi coherently. XD It'll be alright.

This was a weird chapter to write. It was kind of all over the place. Hopefully you guys liked it anyways! XD

As if this chapter wasn't already stressful enough for everyone involved, it almost didn't get posted today. Because I'm currently away from home on a different WiFi network which my ancient (but beloved) tablet apparently does not like. Thankfully that problem was found and resolved Thursday. I thought I was screwed.

This is not how the story ends! You get about 40 more chapters! Yea for you. Not for me. XD

Please review! Thank you!


	18. Crest

Wheatley had always known that he wasn't the smartest man (core?) alive. The fact that he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box had made itself painfully clear on more than one occasion, especially the ones where She had ranted about how he was 'The Dumbest Moron Who Ever Lived' right in front of Chell. Wheatley was aware of all the things She had said, he had done his best to ignore them, but at the moment that annoying little voice that usually screwed things up was giving him the epiphany that _'If my mind was designed with the specific purpose of coming up with terrible ideas, and it's actually registering the fact that I just acted on a bad idea, and is being very vocal about how bad the bad idea was, this must have been a_ really terrible _idea.'_

Wheatley gave Chell all of two seconds to respond to what he'd just said before he went into all out panic mode. His mind twisted Her words with her voice, painting endless scenes of denial, of insults and threats and anger and hurt- scenes featuring a Chell that really _did_ hate him and wasn't afraid to show it. What he had just said, that couldn't- wouldn't- make Chell hate him... could it?

He didn't want to find out. Once he had slapped together a vague course of action, Wheatley's voice kicked into high gear (not that it really had a low gear), starting with an embarrassingly high pitched laugh which his expression somehow matched (in fact his momentarily frozen expression was so intensely terrified that it very nearly read A Psychotic Clown is About to Stab You In The Back. Chell actually gave a cautious glance over her shoulder before returning her (slightly concerned) gaze to him), and quickly tried to undo whatever damage he may have caused.

"Ok, ok," Wheatley started once he remembered how to use his voice, "I shouldn't have said that. I _really_ shouldn't have said that, but remember, remember, I don't expect you to, er, agree, or, or, reciprocate, as it were. The point of this isn't to make you angry, it's not to insult you, or make you upset, it's just to tell you the truth!" His hands froze in front of him in defense, his bony fingers splaying out to create two shields as if she might punch him in the stomach.

"I know." Chell said calmly.

"No, I know you know (only not really because he was so panicked that for once he hadn't really heard her speak, it hadn't registered) but just listen, there wasn't any point in trying to keep it from you because you'd just figure it out like you always do and then you'd be mad at me for keeping things from you, 'Oi Wheatley, have you ever heard of this thing called honesty?' Yes! I have! And that's why I'm telling you this, because I want you to trust me and you can't have trust without honesty, right?" Chell gave a light frown at the desperation in his voice, but he was too busy (intensely) examining the carpet to see it. "It's just- I'm sorry! I'm more sorry than I can put into words and God knows I have enough experience talking, but you hate me, I think, you still do, the only difference is that you're getting better at hiding it, and this could make you trust me more but it could also make you trust me less?" Wheatley's eyes met hers for a moment and she blinked at the misery in them. At her silence he started drooping (face first) towards the carpet like a wilting flower. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it. I knew I shouldn't say it even before I did but it just wouldn't leave me alone and-"

"Wheatley," Chell's voice was gentle, and the sound of it stopped Wheatley from colliding with the floor. He looked up at her slowly, reluctantly, fearing whatever form of anger or hurt that may reside in her eyes, but she only gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know."

"What do you mean you know?" Wheatley asked dubiously, shooting back upright so quickly he nearly fell backwards.

A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "You gave it away."

There was another moment of stunned silence on his end, and he swore Chell actually laughed out loud at his expression. He hadn't planned for any of this. He hadn't imagined even one scenario in which she found This funny. Or in whch she knew about It before he said It.

"I- I've been worried sick this entire week over how you would react- whether or not I should even tell you- I spent the whole day wandering around, practicing what I wanted to say, and worrying over how you would react if I told you, and you already knew?"

"Sorry." Chell offered, smirking lightly. "You rehearsed that?"

"AUGH!" Suddenly Wheatley flopped backwards as if his bones had turned to rubber. He hit the carpet with a _thud_ (it looked as though that might have actually hurt), his blue eyes looking up at her with pure misery. "Do you see what you did to me? I'm dead now. This is your fault." His voice matched.

"Did I kill you?" She asked, prodding his arm with her foot as she stood.

"Yes!" He wailed, snatching his arms away and using them to hide his face.

"I didn't mean to." Chell said softly, siting down in the couch.

"How are you so calm?" Wheatley cried, his arms flinging out beside him. "I didn't even want to tell you about this because I was afraid you would have some kind of an emotional breakdown or something! You'd throw me out of the house or take me back to Her or-"

"That's a little extreme." He swore there was a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Wheatley smiled nervously at the spark in her eyes. "You can be a little extreme."

"Only when I have to be." She smirked down at him, crossing her arms.

Chell was pretty. Wheatley hadn't really realized it until the night they went stargazing, but now it felt as though he were figuring it out for the second time. He was lying on the floor, limbs splayed out like some kind of (scrawny) animal rug. Chell had risen from her place on the floor (probably so Wheatley wouldn't hit her with all the flailing he was doing), and was now smirking down at him from her perch on the edge of the couch (Wheatley absolutely loved how Chell smirked. It was as though even her smile had to find a way to challenge everything around it). When he dared to meet her eyes he was pleasantly surprised to find that they didn't harbor the tiniest bit of resentment or pain; they were their usual sterling silver, the spark in them brighter than he'd ever seen. Still, he felt her current expression was similar to her I'm-about-to-break-something-that's-really-expensive-and-I'm-excited-about-it look. Wheatley only hoped that the thing she was about to break wasn't him. He noticed her expression shift (which meant she had caught him staring) and he quickly returned his gaze to the floor.

"So are you... Ok... With this?" He fidgeted, threading his fingers through the carpet and avoiding her eyes. His face was probably as red as an apple, he could feel it changing color, but he still clung to the hope that he somehow appeared nonchalant.

Though she appeared calm, Chell's voice of reason (which had been screaming bloody murder throughout this entire conversation) recoiled at the thought. It didn't matter whether she did or she didn't: she was from There, they were from There, and The Cake was a Lie. What did it matter? It wasn't safe.

"Well since you asked," She started, trying to think of a delicate way to voice her thoughts and not finding one, "No." For a moment she froze as he had earlier, realizing too late the harshness of what she was saying. When she glanced down at Wheatley he was as tense as if were about to strike him. She continued, her voice taking on a more timid tone. "Love... I think... loving someone is trusting them with your life." They both cringed and looked away from each other. Again Chell realized the sharpness of her words too late. "You and I don't have the best track record when it comes to trust. What happened happened over three years ago, and for all I know it wasn't even your fault, but it still happened."

Wheatley wondered if there was any way humans had the ability to turn invisible, because right then he really, really wanted to. "Um... yes... it did." Was what he said, but what he was thinking was more along the lines of _'So if I hadn't turned on you your answer might be different.'_ That and _'I tell her I love her because I want her to trust me, then she tells me she doesn't love me because she doesn't trust me.'_

One of the worst things about this conversation was that Chell did not sound angry. She did not sound defensive, she did not sound tired, she did not sound annoyed. Chell sounded skeptical. And gentle. Which mixed together into something that Wheatley could almost describe as pity.

"After all that, you've been gone for three years, back for maybe two or three months, and now this Already?" She looked so skeptical that she was almost smiling.

"What do you mean?"He asked nervously, though if he was honest with himself he was already expecting her answer and wondering if it might be true.

"Wheatley," Her voice was so gentle and soft that his eyes drooped shut at the sound of it. "I think you wholeheartedly believe what you said, but I don't think it's true." She hesitated for a moment, cringing internally, knowing that there really wasn't a nice way to say this: "I don't think you know what you're talking about." Which was awful, but it was probably true. If Wheatley had spent his entire life up until now in Aperture, there was no way anyone could have loved him, nor he love them. Chell was almost certain that love in Aperture could not exist; the only exceptions ended in death. "Think about it. Up until a few months ago, everything you'd ever felt was simulated. Artificial. For as long as you could remember everything felt the exact same way." She was right of course, Wheatley thought as he stared at the carpet; not that he wanted to admit it. The closest thing to love he'd ever felt as a core was a very strong sense of self preservation. "Now suddenly you're in a human body with real, complex emotions, and there's a new dimension to everything. Everything feels so much deeper than anything you've ever felt before, and," For a moment Chell was silent and Wheatley wondered if she'd lost her voice (that would be the second time she'd lost it because of him, wouldn't it?). When she looked up at him there was caution in her eyes. "I'm the person you tried to hurt." Here his gaze snapped back to the floor, where he glared at the carpet with a vengeance. Had he possessed laser vision there would likely be a hole in the floor. Chell continued, treading carefully. "Now you spend most of your time with me, and, let's be honest, being around me probably makes you feel guilty and grateful and... You've never felt those emotions with this much depth before."

Carefully, not wanting to startle him, Chell placed a hand on Wheatley's shoulder to get his attention. He hesitated to look at her, and when his eyes met hers they were full of pain. It was her turn to examine the carpet.

"You're just confused."

She flinched as he jerked away.

"But you said you knew!" He snapped, curling in on himself.

Wheatley had known This wouldn't work out even before asking had become an option. He knew it was a bad idea, that he was stupid to even consider it... but of course some small, grotesquely optimistic part of him had pictured a much happier ending, of Chell's voice, sweet and clear and happy, saying "It's ok Wheatley, I forgive you. I love you, too." It was impossible, he knew it was. Those were words he doubted he would ever hear. And even though he deserved it it still hurt.

"I knew you thought... you did."

"What if you're wrong?" Wheatley asked. When his eyes met hers she was surprised by the determination in them. "What if I'm not confused? What if I do- know what I'm talking about?" Though even as he said it he knew it was hopeless: the number of times he'd been right about anything wouldn't fill up a single one of his scrawny hands; the number of times Chell had been wrong? Who was he kidding?

"It's still not as simple as you think it is." For a moment she almost sounded angry. "I don't even know if we can- where we're from? If she knew? I don't want to know what she might do." She looked at her hands. "This is dangerous."

Chell knew she must have really hurt him because he wasn't talking. Usually that was his first line of defense.

"I'm not mad at you." She offered with a half smile. "I'm not throwing you out, I'm not taking you back to her, I'm not stranding you on the moon."

"Thanks." Wheatley mumbled, still avoiding her eyes.

"I'm only saying that... what you want isn't as easy as you think it is." Her tone was gentle but her voice was firm. "For now, we keep things the way they are, because it's safer and we're getting better. Ok?" Wheatley wouldn't bring himself to look at her, but if he had he might've noticed that, just for a second, her smile turned into the one she'd worn the night of the jealousy talk. "Give it time." She said, patting him on the shoulder.

 _'It could have gone worse_ ,' He reminded himself, hiding his face in his hands as he heard Chell enter her room and shut the door. The door she hadn't shut since the night of the thunderstorm about a month ago. _'Yes, it could have gone much worse. And it could have gone much better, too.'_

-  
Author's Note:

When it doubt, talk your way out is Wheatley's life motto.

This chapter just about killed me. I rewrote it (or at least started rewriting it) about five or six or more times. Because 1) this is kind of an important chapter, and 2) it was really hard trying to find a proper reaction for Chell. There was one version where she was calm and flirty, there was one where she kind of freaked out, there was one where she wouldn't talk at all. They all had the same ending but Chell was different in every one. I played around with this a lot. XD Eventually I thought about how Chell is (obviously) calm in the face of a crisis (not that this is a crisis, necessarily), so even if she was freaked out by what Wheatley said she would keep it to herself. And since Chell is extremely clever she could probably talk Wheatley out of thinking he was thinking what he thought he was thinking. I'm STILL not sure if I'm happy with this chapter but I need to write about 30 more (I wish I was exaggerating) before the year is up so I best be moving on. XD There may be editing once Pieces is complete.

I'm sure you guys probably expected more of an "I love you, too." kind of response, but the thing is, I've never seen one fic where Wheatley confessed and Chell denied him. _Ever_. And I feel like that's not all that realistic. Because Chell is so complex, I feel that even if she did love him she would either need some time to process it before she would admit it, or she would deny it because she's the type of person who can easily act like they love someone but have a hard time actually saying it. She's a head over heart kinda girl.

Both of them were just internally screaming through this entire chapter.

Poor Wheats.

Have no fear. There will still be fluff.

If you have any questions about this chapter or just Pieces in general, stop on by the Q&A book and ask away. I'd love to hear from you.


	19. Empire

It was a test unlike the shining white chambers of Aperture. Those had beckoned to be solved with musical pleas and cool blue lights fading to soft warmth; this was more like a test out of old Aperture: buried deep within Chell's mind, somewhere toxic and guarded and condemned. This test was much more like those, it was meant to remain the way it was left: fully functional, always running, and never solved.

It was condemned for a reason. Some tests were never meant to be solved. Some tests were so dangerous that just stepping into them, just looking at them, was enough to make to the world around you quake and crumble as easily as crumbs of the cake that was a lie.

This was dangerous territory. Chell should not be here. She knew better than to look, she knew better than to move, she knew better than to touch. _She knew better._

Yet she knocked the condemned signs to the ground, she opened the vault, and she took a deep breath of the stale, toxic air.

There were more dangerous things in the world than turrets and neurotoxin. There were slow, silent monsters that could lurk inside of you, that could drown you in your sleep, or hollow out your heart, or wind through your lungs until you couldn't breathe. There were things like fear, and hate, and guilt. Anger. Regret. Remorse. Distrust. (It didn't matter what you called them, here they all went by the same name.)

These were the toxic things Chell had locked away in the deepest chambers of herself three years ago. These were the things that she caged because, try as she might, she couldn't destroy them. She chained them, buried them, and built up enough walls and condemned signs to keep everyone out, including herself. Because burying this, leaving it the way it was: raw, and screaming, and utterly unsolved, not wanting to know, not being able to cope with the truth, was a lot like giving up.

And Chell knew then, just as she knew now, that that wasn't something she would be ok with for very long.

She had finally reached that point.

The sight of the place, the feel of it, made her shiver. This was an Aperture of her own creation, which by some miracle of architecture was more gruesome than the original. While the real Aperture's walls may have radiated hate, these walls were built of it.

This was all that had been left of Chell by the time she reached Horizon. Tenacity, and hate, and fear. Sam, Jim, Elizabeth, Claire, Michael, everyone, anyone who tried to touch her, anyone who tried to help her, she gave all of them a run for their money. Because everything was alright, they were going to help her, they were going to get her out of That Place, but they weren't the first to say those things and she had not forgotten, could not, would not forget what had happened when she believed those words the first time.

She was a broken, dying mess, who spent everyday trying to fight the only people who could save her. In the end they had to break her apart to help her. They had to fight her, and break her, and put her back together, and build over what was left.

Which was this. This terrible place constructed of all of her strongest, darkest emotions, and a single question.

Chell was proud of what she was now. Above this raw mess she was built of stronger stuff, gleaming walls of stone and marble: independence, power, strength. She was proud of what she had become, of what Horizon had made her; but it was hard to admire because a castle build on splintering wood was sure to fall, beautiful as it may be. This part of her crumbled more and more each day, and eventually it was going to fall, leaving her to build (yet again) from the ground up.

Chell wondered if she could remove this piece of herself without hurting what lie above. She smiled a grim smile. No, this was going to hurt either way. She didn't care if she had to light a fire between her own ribs, this place was going to burn and smoke.  
It wasn't hers at all; it was His. His empire built in her, on her, just like the original which was built on her mistake.

That Place was venom. Chell knew it was, yet when it spoke to them, to her, _with its very own voice_ , Chell had listened to it without hesitation. Though she didn't want it, His empire (well, both of them) was just as much hers as it was His.

She was His, too, because she still hadn't managed to rid herself of Him.

Chell had released Her three years ago, after months of nightmares and hallucinations and hearing things when she was alone, she had decided that enough was enough and she purged what remained of Her, easily. It wasn't instantaneous but it happened much faster than Chell had expected.

Chell understood Her. She understood how She became what She was, what She had been before, why She acted the way did. She was a victim of That Place just as much as Chell was. She understood.

He was different.

He was not her Wheatley (or was he? Or did it matter? Because the words that He said, even if he didn't say them, were said with his voice?), He was the product of fear and power and hate. An example of how poisonous That Place really was, of how it could take something bumbling and innocent and transform it into a monster within minutes. Chell did know that much, but nothing beyond. Had something gone wrong during the core transfer? Had he been using her the entire time? Had he planned to turn on her? Did it have anything to do with Her crushing him? Was it even him? Was there any way She could have arranged the whole thing, stuck one of the Wheatley duplicates he ranted about under the floor and watched the rest? Or did he make a choice to turn on her?

Chell wanted to know, because even though knowing wouldn't change the past, it might change the future, mightn't it? If what had happened hadn't happened because of Her, because of There- if it had only happened because He was a part of him and not a part of Her, Chell needed to know. If there was any chance of Him returning, Chell needed to know. Because she liked to believe that she could help Wheatley. She had saved him from Her, and taken him in, and fed him, and taught him how to walk: she cared about his well being more than she'd like to admit. They were friends again. Chell wanted to say that she forgave him, that she trusted him (she was ready. She wanted to.), but she knew that couldn't be true if she were here. If Wheatley wanted her trust or anything more, then Chell needed to know that He was gone. There could be no future until the past was where it belonged. If this place existed in him too, for a different reason, they would need to take about ten steps backward before they could ever move forward. Chell would need to break him apart as she had been broken, and help him build over was left, and then maybe, maybe there would be trust. Or friendship. Or a future. Or whatever they were missing. But Chell needed to know before she could do anything. She needed to know what was there.

There was only one way to find out.

Cautiously, Chell took a step forward into the darkness. Treading lightly was an understatement when the floor was made of glass. She didn't look down; she looked ahead, ahead into the wall of darkness that lay beyond the open door of the vault.

Part of her had expected crimson eyes with scarlet beams to peer out from the darkness, would have almost welcomed them in comparison to what could be there, what should be there. What was there.

Chell's footfalls came to halt as a single blue light pierced through the darkness. She pretended that the walls weren't shuddering, that the floor beneath her was not cracking. She glared up at Him, the fires already begun in her eyes.

This was the last test That Place had left her, and it was the hardest of all. The one that could break her just by looking at it, the one that could drown her in her own thoughts.

Three years of waiting were long enough: it was about time Chell solved it.

Chell stood in His chamber, still burning after three years (she wouldn't have to start the fires after all); the difference was that the fires were no longer fed by Aperture: they were fed by the rotten wood that lined her ribs.

Her gaze was steady as her eyes met his optic, though the familiar color hurt her eyes. She couldn't speak here but He seemed to hear her question as she thought it.

 _'Was it you?'_

He laughed, and the sound made the ground quake and the flames dance.

"You always thought you were so smart, didn't you?" Chell bared her teeth as He leaned forward. "If you're so smart and I'm such an idiot, then why are you here? Can't you figure it out for yourself?" He gave a bitter laugh. "You don't need my help. You never did." Had He been human His expression likely would have a menacing smile. "Tell me, which one is real?"

There were two (three?) of him standing in front of her. There was her Wheatley in the middle and one more on either side of him, though they all looked exactly alike.

They didn't sound alike.

The one on her left, or rather his voice, kept changing from timid to guilty to teasing to emotional to jealous to shy to just about everything in between. The one on her right was constant. Constant anger, and hurt, and blame.

"Yes you _can_! You can talk! I'm not stupid!"

"Thank you, Chell. For everything."

"I was _nice_ to you! I woke you up, and got you a portal gun, and, yes, I screwed up, but I fixed it, didn't I?"

"You... trust me?"

"I broke you out and we took Her down... and..."

"I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I didn't have anything else to lose. But I was wrong, I had you. And you were more important than anything else."

"And then you turned against me."

"I shouldn't have pushed you to talk when I knew you didn't want to. You don't have to talk to me ever again. I wouldn't blame you. I don't deserve it."

"You tricked me into thinking we were friends, but then you turned around and took _Her_ side."  
"Did you try to pelt me with fruit because I called you _stubborn_?"

"She was so terrible to you, I heard every word She said to you, yet when I finally did what _you_ wanted, you decided that I was the bad guy!"

"I know you don't want me here in your room, but the thing is, any time anything is wrong, there's this little voice in my head, and it's always saying: find Chell! Get Chell! Because- No matter what's wrong- no matter how bad or big or small it is- you can always fix it. Always. You always make everything better."

"I was only doing what you wanted!"

"You, you got out. You got out of There, you found a town full of people who, who obviously _adore_ you, you got everything you wanted- and you were still worried about me? After everything I did?"

"I was doing it for you!"

"He was touching your hands, and your face, and your arm- at one point he practically had you _sitting in his lap_! Doesn't he know that you don't _like_ contact like that? How long has he been living in this town? Because I've only been living here for a few months but even I know you don't like-"

"I was going to get rid of Her, I was going to help you escape!"

"I think... I'm in love with you."

"But then you changed your mind."

"What's the difference?" He sneered.

They spoke over top of each other but Chell recognized their words. She had heard all of them before, all of them recently. Listening to them (him? Him?) was hard because they all spoke with the same voice, the same voice with different words, and she had to decide which was more important, the voice or the words. Which was worse? What had been said or who had said it? Who _had_ said it?

"Are you alright in there? Are you ok?"

Did it matter? Chell just wanted this to be over with, to forgive and forget. But you couldn't forgive what you couldn't forget and Chell could never, never forget this, this last test that could break her with a single thought, the only one she couldn't solve-

"Chell? Chell!"

It was a fourth voice. A third pair of eyes which were softer and bluer and more concerned peered down at her from the doorway of the room he was not supposed to be in. The two of them seemed to realize it simultaneously because she offered him a withered look and he responded with a sheepish one, splaying his bony hands out in defense.

"Oh, right, sorry! I know, rules and all, but, you were making these noises in your sleep-" He gave a nervous laugh, and though it was hard to tell in the poor light Chell could've sworn his face turned pink. "Not that I was listening to you sleep or anything, that sounds weird, _ahem_ \- no, I was in my room, where you told me to be, and I heard you making these loud noises and so I got worried. And I asked if I could come in, you probably don't remember. Didn't hear me. But I did ask, I did, and you didn't answer and I thought something might be wrong so I just. Barged in. "He wrung his hands together when she didn't respond, his gaze still full of concern. "Anyways. Point is, are you alright? You ok? Because you look, well," He scratched the back of his head, wincing. "Not bad, but, um, like you're seeing double or something. And that's no good, is it?"

Chell sank down as he got closer, hoping her mattress might swallow her. She didn't want his attention, or his voice, or his touch. His concern. She wanted silence. She wanted to think. He wanted to talk. He _always_ wanted to talk. And apparently he wasn't satisfied to do so from the door frame.

Wheatley was a good head taller than Chell, but the height difference had never bothered her until now. His shadow was an absolute monster, and with every step he took towards her she felt as though it were devouring her. In an attempt to make herself feel a little bigger (because at the moment she felt very very small), Chell sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her spine straightening instinctively.

When Wheatley reached her side he was still looking for a response to his previous comments, and his brow furrowed with worry when he finally realized why he wouldn't receive any.

"Oh love," Something in the gentle cadence of his voice made her want to cry like a child. "Can you not talk?" She shook her head the barest bit, avoiding his eyes. "You were having one of those, one of those nightmare things, weren't you?"

Chell knew what nightmares were and that had been much worse. That was something much deeper, much darker.

"That explains all the noise you were making. It must have made your throat lock up, too." His expression was a cautious smile as he looked down at her, his hand hovering over her shoulder. "Can I...?" He brushed his fingers against the soft fabric on her back but quickly recoiled when Chell flinched. Things were icy between them at the moment. After what he had said and how both of them had reacted, it seemed that neither one of them knew how to proceed. It was like they had moved backwards and now there was no safe way to move forward again.

There was a moment of silence before Wheatley spoke again, a grim smile now stuck on his face. "It wasn't Her, was it?" She looked up at him with an expression that could only be described as pitiful. "I'm sorry." He said softly." It's alright, you know? I would never hurt you, not now. Not on purpose. Not for all the money, or apples in the world." Carefully, gently, he sat down beside her and laced an arm behind her, pulling her into his side. "You're ok. I've got you." They both felt his face turn pink as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and after a moment he rested his head on hers, his voice even softer when he spoke. "It wasn't real. Who knows? Maybe it never was."

It was Wheatley, the real Wheatley, her Wheatley. As she sighed and shuddered in his arms she felt the place she had been before sink the tiniest bit. It wasn't gone, not yet turned to dust and ash, but feeling it beginning to slip away was a good start.

Chell knew the difference now.

Author's Note:

When discussing raw, complicated things, why not use a raw, complicated writing style?

I just finished reading a book with a really bizarre, interesting writing style and since I knew this chapter wasn't going to have much dialogue (this is more about Chell processing everything than about anything actually happening) I decided to play around with my own writing style.

This chapter was confusing to write at times (I had to make a list of all the things I wanted to go over so I didn't leave anything out) but I had a lot of fun with it.

What did you guys think of the style?

That one section with the two Wheatleys (three Wheatleys?) took forever. That was the hardest part of this chapter. Going back through all the previous chapters and sifting through them for good dialogue, and then putting it all in the right order. It was very tedious. I hope you liked the end result. XD

This is Chell kind of freaking out about the whole the-man-who-previously-tried-to-murder-me-is-now-in-love-with-me-and-I-might-be-in-love-with-him-too(?) thing. Which is perfectly normal.

Thank you guys so much for all the great reviews! Reading those makes my night. I just love hearing from you guys. If you ever want to ask me questions or talk with me about any of my stories or anything portal related (it would make my day) my tumblr for writing is here ( portalpandawrites). Be warned, it is dead. XD I don't think many people on Tumblr know what Pieces is, but maybe you guys could help me change that. I'd love to hear from you.


	20. Color

Everything faded in winter.

In Autumn canopies of trees had been adorned with vibrant shades of red and orange and yellow; now they were bare and devoid of color, their previously bright leaves covering the once green ground in monotone brown. Where the sky had once been painted with gorgeous blues and pastels, it was now blotted with clouds until it was dark and gray.

Winter snuffed the light, and color, and sound out of everything outside Chell's little house every year, and she had come to expect it. What she hadn't anticipated was it doing the same thing to the inside of her home.

Her eyes had always picked up on things that other's did not. Her home was suddenly much darker, and colder, and quiet, and the changing of the season had nothing to do with it.

The most noticeable (and in Chell's opinion alarming) change was that Wheatley's eyes were not as blue as they once were. Ever since their last talk all of the colorful (more like neon) little traits that made Wheatley, Wheatley had become as dry and dull as the leaves that littered the ground outside. It was like he was new to town again: Whenever he was around Chell he was cautious, and nervous, and weary of her. The difference was that now, instead of talking seventy miles per hour whenever she came into view, he avoided speaking to her whenever he could get away with it.

Chell knew that his speech was his first line of defense, which meant that if he had stopped talking he had likely deemed himself unworthy of being defended.

Though Chell knew the real reason why he wasn't speaking.

A few nights after their last talk she had a very dark nightmare. It was the first one she'd experienced in a long while, and in a twisted sort of way, it had been about Wheatley. Chell reacted badly, which was to say that she reacted. Apparently she made a sound of distress in her sleep, which Wheatley heard and investigated.

Chell considered it ironic that she had a nightmare about him on one of the first nights without him curled up beside her. After his 'confession' she quickly relocated him back to his old room and reclaimed her own (not without a great deal of pleading and complaining on his side), so in order to check on Chell he had to barge into her room.

Eventually she allowed Wheatley to hold her. She was nestled into his side, his arm slung around her shoulders, his head resting atop hers: He made her feel so much better. How had it not been apparent that he was her Wheatley, not Her Wheatley? What had she been worried about? If his intention was to hurt her he would have done it by now, and the fact that he hadn't was a good indication that What Had Happened wasn't his fault.

For the first time since his confession Chell felt completely calm and level headed.

And then she saw the moon.

And suddenly his grip his was a bit too tight, and his eyes were much too blue, and Wheatley very quickly found himself on the floor.

She would have apologized immediately had her voice cooperated. Chell hadn't heard his much since.

The two of them were going to be trapped (more or less literally) in the house together for months once winter hit, and at the moment they could hardly even look at each other. Chell knew that something would have to be done to fix things before they got worse.

She snuck a glance at him as she nibbled on a piece of toast.

Since Chell only saw Wheatley at mealtimes (he wasn't allowed to eat outside the kitchen/breakfast nook and if he didn't have to be there he would be as far away from Chell as possible- while still being in the house, of course) she decided that the best time to make her move would be at breakfast.

She took her dirty dishes to the the sink, sat back down, and spoke.

"I'm sorry." She said. And while Chell initially apologized for a very simple reason, afterward she realized that she was sorry for a great number of things. She was sorry for tricking him into thinking she couldn't speak, she was so so sorry for pressing that _god forsaken button_ , she was sorry that the cake was a lie, she was sorry she had pushed him away- literally and metaphorically, and she was sorry that she caused this rift between them. That she had made him feel new and scared and vulnerable all over again right after he'd finally begun to get better.

Of course Wheatley didn't pick up on all of this, but the 'I'm sorry' alone was enough to make him choke on his cereal. " _You're_ sorry?" He blanched, briefly wondering whether or not cornflakes could somehow find their way into the human lung, "Why're _you_ sorry? _You_ don't have anything to be sorry about!"

Chell gave a sad little laugh: If only that were true.

"Did you want to stay here?" She asked gently. She tried to meet his eyes but he avoided her gaze.

Wheatley edged away from her, guilt telling him she was only asking because she didn't want him around anymore. "What?"

"Here in Horizon. Or just here... with me?" He swore her voice turned softer at the last part. "Did you stay here because you wanted to, or because you felt like you had to?"

Wheatley blinked. In all honesty he hadn't really considered that there _was_ an anywhere else. That there was someplace beyond Chell's cozy little home, beyond Horizon, beyond the stargazing hill. Beyond Chell herself.

"I don't... No... I never thought about going anywhere else." He stared down into his cereal. "Why?"

The reason why was almost silly. The day before she had decided to make one last trip to the east side of town before the season ended (it was still Autumn by the calendar) in order to add to her stock pile of winter supplies. While she'd been there the grocers wife, Charlotte (who was a hopeless gossip), had inquired about Wheatley. Did he like Horizon? Did he plan to stay in town? Was he going to live with Chell, or was he going to move out soon?

Chell hadn't asked him any of those questions. She had just assumed she knew the answers.

"I feel guilty." She admitted.

"That's ridiculous!" Wheatley scoffed.

It didn't make any sense, but what she was saying very nearly made him angry. Guilt was nothing to be taken lightly: He should know. It was heavy and sticky and awful, and, at least in his experience with it, it only clung to people who had somehow earned it. Chell was not one of those people. Her intelligence and her moral compass seemed to somehow be aligned in system of checks and balances so that if by some miraculous feat one was wrong the other would keep it in line. Everything she did was calculated, and precise, and careful. She didn't make mistakes, she didn't make wrong decisions. She didn't deserve to take the blame for his.

She didn't agree.

"Is it?" Chell asked skeptically, "I dragged you back here, kept you locked up in the house for a month, and even after that I hardly let you go anywhere without me." He could hear the determined spark of her eyes in her voice. "You're not a puppy, Wheatley, you're a person."

Was he? He wondered. Somehow he felt there must have been a difference between being human and being a person. It was probably a subtle sort of difference like the kind that separated looking from seeing, or hearing from listening. They were very similar, they could almost be used as synonyms, but were they really the same? Could a former machine ever really be a person? Could a villain?

Chell's voice turned softer. She smiled up at him sadly. "I've tried so hard to keep you safe that I've practically held you hostage here. What if you don't even like it here? I never even asked you if you wanted to stay here."

"When you said dragged me back here I think you meant to say saved my life. Which isn't a bad thing in my opinion. Or hopefully yours." He mumbled the last part, and Chell's chest hurt when she noticed that he wouldn't look at her. "And all that other stuff- Well if it makes you feel any better I hadn't thought of any of that either. I don't-" He gave a sad little laugh. "No one has ever really cared about my opinion before." He shifted, looking up at her meekly. "Well, before you."

There was a moment of silence that Chell would've loved to fill. Unfortunately her voice decided that the exact same moment would be the perfect time to go on break, so instead of saying something meaningful, about how that was awful and she would _always_ care about his opinion, she smiled polity in his general direction.

Wheatley continued.

"I like Horizon. The people here are nice, but not too nice. Not um, aggressively nice. If that makes any sense? They don't mind to give you some space, er, room if you need it." He peeked up at her again, this time managing to appear more bashful (maybe even affectionate, Chell noted) than small. "I like spending time with you, too. If I really wanted to get away from you that badly I'd have made a run for it by now."

His voice was not the same, she thought. He did not sound curious, or happy, or coy; he sounded timid. Cautious. But perhaps he was a little braver for what they'd been through, because, at least for a moment, he managed to meet her eyes. In any case it was the most he'd spoken to her since their last talk.

"I'm proud of you." Chell's voice was nothing but pure affection. "You've grown a lot since you came here."

She hadn't meant to say that. It was the first thing she'd said in a good long while that she hadn't thought through, and she hadn't really expected it to come out because she thought her voice was still inoperable. That didn't mean it wasn't true, though.

"Oh." Compliments from her always caught him off guard- well, no, that was an understatement: Just the sound of her voice caught him off guard. Hearing that same voice sing his praises made him feel as though he'd melt to a puddle at her feet. For a moment it even made the guilt drop off his shoulders like a backpack full of lead. "Well, I finally have a good role model. An excellent one, really."

Wheatley fought the urge to smile like an idiot when he noticed that Chell was blushing.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"At least you're not a homicidal supercomputer." He offered. _'At least you're not me.'_

Chell nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I'll always have that." She bit the inside of her mouth. "I still feel like I've treated you unfairly, though."

Wheatley frowned: Why did they have to come back to that?

"You- Why do you keep saying that?" He asked, half smiling, half frowning. "You're not- I don't think you've ever made a single mistake in your life. In all the time I've spent with you I've never seen you make one mistake."

Chell almost laughed before she realized that he was being serious.

She frowned. "That's not true."

 _'Button.'_ Her mind hissed viciously.

"Yes it is!" Wheatley said dubiously, "Humans created machines to be perfect, or so I'm told, but when we were back There, the only perfect being in the facility was you." He sounded so earnest that Chell didn't know if she should blush or smack him. "Every machine There was corroded or corrupt or selfish- and you were just, you were like sunlight." His gaze was full of admiration. "Even when I was still- a core," Wheatley managed, "even then you were so much better at everything than I was. Though that's probably not saying much considering that every aspect of my personality was designed to make me a screw up, right?"

Chell's expression quickly morphed into one of horror and hurt. "Wheatley," She breathed. She tried to reach for him but he frowned and moved away.

"No, no! It's fine! Completely fine! I'm mean, it's the only thing I'm good at, isn't it? Ruining things?" His eyes glinted bitterly. "I've failed at literally every job I've ever been given- including being an idiot, you'd think I'd pass that one with flying colors- I'm untrustworthy, I can't do anything for myself. And you," His voice softened as his eyes met hers. "you're strong, and clever, and careful. You always do what's right. You just- you don't make wrong decisions." He gave a huff of laughter. "You're perfect. The exact opposite of me."

For the first time she could remember Chell didn't speak because she couldn't find the right words.

"Am I listening to you, or Her?" She finally managed. Wheatley looked away.

The more she processed how self derogatory Wheatley's comments had become, the more she realized that there was a certain story he might find interesting. This was not the talk Chell had wanted to have, and it was not one she would enjoy giving, but he obviously needed to hear it.

Wheatley noticed her demeanor shift immediaetly. Her spine straightened, her shoulders rolled back, her expression went stoic. Chell looked as though she were about to enter a test chamber.

"I never made it to town." She said.

He blinked. "What?"

"I didn't make it to Horizon. I wasn't strong enough." Her voice was calm and level, and somehow she continued to meet his eyes. "I hadn't eaten or slept in who knows how long, I was in pain, it was the middle of summer, it was hot... " She closed her eyes. "I collapsed in the fields."

Wheatley looked for all the world as if he'd just seen the sun drop from the sky.

Chell's voice turned harder. "I finally made it out of There only to fall at Its' door. She could have easily taken me back, if She wanted. I couldn't have done a thing about it."

There was a brief moment of silence that Wheatley filled with a nervous chuckle.

"But-I'm sure you got back up, and you-"

"No I didn't." Her gaze turned to ice. "Elizabeth found me. She sent her husband to get Sam-" It might have been his imagination but he swore he saw her cringe. "They were the first people I'd seen in years, and do you know what I did?"

Wheatley did not.

"I fought them." She said quietly. "No one had ever- I wasn't used to receiving help. Especially from people who didn't want anything in return. I wouldn't let them help me. I wouldn't even let them touch me."

There was something vulnerable in her eyes that made Wheatley think Chell was afraid of herself. Perhaps with good reason:

"My own stubbornness nearly killed me."

He would have hugged her had she not worn her testing demeanor like a suit of armor.

"I didn't know that." Wheatley said softly.

Chel smiled at him, her voice turning light. "I'm human, Wheatley. You're human. We're human." She slid his hands into hers. "We're not perfect, and we're not supposed to be."

"I know that, but-" He swallowed hard, giving her a pained look. "I'm really _really_ imperfect. I can't do _anything_ right."

"There are many, many differences between There and here." Chell said, brushing her thumbs across the back of his hands. "Whatever you are There, it's what you have to be. What you're forced to be. You're confined by walls, or hatred, or turrets, or code. You don't get to decide who you are or what you do. You are what She makes you." She shook her head. "It's not like that here. You're free." Wheatley thought that must have been her favorite word: Her face lit up when she said it. "Here, if you don't like who you are you can change. You can try things, and learn things, and grow. And the only person who can stop you is yourself."

Something about Chell's little speech made Wheatley's chest swell as he followed her into the living room. He plopped down next to her on the couch, and much to his surprise she snuggled into his side.

"You're not an expert at the whole 'being human' thing? You're still learning. I'm still learning." Wheatley began to relax as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Just because you make mistakes, that doesn't mean you are one." She smirked up at him, her eyes glittering. "Do you think I would keep you around if you were?"

"Well," He sighed, nudging her gently, "You did just ask me if I wanted to leave."

"That's right," Chell shifted at his side. "back on the topic of freedom: You don't have to stay here just because I do. You're more than welcome to stay if you want, I'm not asking because I don't want you to stay, I just wanted to let you know that you have the option to leave if you want. I could help you get to the next town before the first big snow hits."

Wheatley was touched that Chell would go to all that trouble just for him, but he honestly couldn't imagine living anywhere without her. And he didn't want to.

"I don't want to leave." He smiled. "I'm perfectly happy right here with you."

"Really?" Her expression was teasing but her voice was gentle. Wheatley might even venture to say it was happy: That she was happy that he wanted to stay with her.

"Really." He echoed. "I can't leave you. You're just too nice." _'Too perfect.'_ He thought, but there was no way she'd let him get away with using that word ever again.

"Listen," Chell bent low and cupped her ear. "do you hear it?"

"What?"

Chell smirked. "The sound of Her laughing."

Wheatley swatted the air. "Who cares what She thinks."

"Exactly." She smiled, squeezing his hands.

His eyes were blue again.

Author's Note:

Hallelujah, it's finished! XD I have worked on this chapter for multiple hours every single day this week. It took forever to finish at 3407 words, I hope you guys liked it, and please comment! I put a lot of time into this chapter.

I have started a new little book/project/thing that I call Drabbles. They're basically little minifics that I'm taking requests for. I may also include some scenes that Pieces won't allow me to write. Because prompts. Follow that for more Portal/chelley/Pieces.

ALSO I need a beta! I don't need anyone to fuss over characterization or timing or anything like that (those mistakes are on me); I just want someone to check my grammar. If you have the know how and you'd like to beta for Pieces, please PM me! Thank you!


	21. Metaphor

Notice:  
Everything from here on out occurs after Pieces of Christmas (including the parts of Pieces of Christmas that haven't yet been written/published). So if you haven't read Pieces of Christmas, you might want to do that first (excluding the parts of Pieces of Christmas that haven't yet been written/published XD). This chapter occurs a few months after the last one.  
-

Time passed.

Winter came just as Chell said it would and before Wheatley knew it, Christmas had come and gone. The holiday introduced a few new elements into Wheatley's cozy life, including cold weather, sickness and a better understanding of the neighbors.

Right around Christmas the weather became so cold that Chell closed off the bedrooms and resolved to keep the fire going as often as she could, apparently disappointed with the performance of the furnace. Of course Wheatley didn't mind this at all: ever since he 'confessed', Chell had banished him back to his own lonely room (no cuddles for Wheatley), but them now practically living in the kitchen and living room meant that Chell had (reluctantly) granted him permission to sleep on the pull out couch with her. Which gave him a free pass to cuddle with Chell, in front of a cozy fire and under a mountain of blankets, on a nightly basis.

He had no complaints.

Unfortunately for both of them Chell was sick during Christmas Eve and Christmas, which meant she had to stay home. Whatever Chell had come down with wasn't serious, but it was stubborn: it took her about a week to fight it off, during which Wheatley called Sam (the doctor in town) every single day asking if she would be okay and if was she dying. When Chell finally recovered she wasn't sure who was more relieved.

Wheatley tried his best to give Chell a happy holiday despite her not feeling well, and if he did say so himself, he thought he did a pretty good job. Though he hadn't done it alone.

The people of Horizon absolutely loved Chell. The moment they'd learned they could help her they were ready and willing (especially that Michael fellow. Maybe he wasn't completely terrible after all...), and while Wheatley wouldn't say what the exact result of their collaboration had been (that was a story for another time), it had made Chell very happy. It had also taught Wheatley that the neighbors were willing to help him whenever he needed it, not just Chell. That was a useful bit of information to have on hand.

As for their own relationship, Chell had said to give it time, and time had seemed to help quite a bit.

There seemed to be something much more genuine about their relationship now. Before there had been more than a few layers of ice between them- mistrust, and fear, and resentment- but as those melted, they grew closer. In Wheatley's opinion things had never really been bad between them, but things were so much better now than they'd ever been before.

Thanks to a few months worth of work, they had slipped into a new routine in which Wheatley was able to help Chell with just about everything. If she was cooking he would scurry about gathering up everything she would need or fiddling with the counter top radio until he found something for them to listen to. If she was tidying up the house he would clean windows, or dust the furniture, or knock down cobwebs (or, to put it a bit more bluntly, tackle whatever she was too short to reach). If Chell needed to make a trip into town, Wheatley would tag along and help her carry everything.

This was a brilliant little system because not only did Wheatley finally get to be useful, he was also able to spend more time with Chell. And he couldn't help but notice that ever since he'd devoted more of his time to assisting her (and less of his time staring at her) Chell had spent more of her time smiling at him and laughing with him. Her faith in him seemed to be growing too, because every time he successfully completed one task she would offer him another (if he was up to it, of course).

Soon after they settled into their new routine Christmas came and went, leaving Wheatley feeling warm and fuzzy and excited for the New Year. Everyone else in town kept going on and on about these 'New Year resolution' things, and as soon as Wheatley figured out what they were he decided on his: From here on out his sole concern was improving his relationship- his friendship- with Chell. No more 'I love you' nonsense- because it was nonsense.

What right did he have to try and declare his feelings when he didn't understand them himself?  
When Chell finally started to warm up to him had been elated, instantly forgetting one very important detail: he had literally no idea what he was doing.

Who was he to go around declaring emotions to someone like her, he was lucky he had gotten away with it that as easily as he had before. No, Wheatley only wanted to make Chell feel as though she could trust him again. When she was with him he wanted her to feel nothing but safe and happy. And if he could do those things then he would certainly be improving himself along the way.

So far his plan had worked wonderfully.

Once they were finished with chores for the day the two of them would crawl into bed (the comfy pull out couch in the living room) and watch television or talk for a little while before going to sleep.

That was easily Wheatley's favorite part of the day.

Chell had most recently taken to reading before bed. Occasionally she would become so enveloped with what she was reading that she would stay up well into the night trying to finish it, and though Wheatley would always complain (cuddling with her wasn't exactly easy when she was trying to read) and try to stay up as late as she did, he always fell asleep before she turned the lights out.

Stubborn.

At the moment he wasn't tired enough to sleep (though he was too tired to fuss over her bizarre sleeping habits), so instead he chose to sit with Chell and watch her read: his right arm around her waist to hold her in place (he would not be abandoned for reading light, thank you very much) and his head resting on her shoulder.

As he surveyed the living room Wheatley thought that winter must've been the coziest time of the year. The fire kept the house warm, and filled the air with a smoky sort of wood scent that made him want to sleep. The light it provided cast a soft glow over the room, bathing the scene in warm orange light that made shadows flicker across the walls. Outside the window it was constantly snowing, leaving everything either covered in a smooth white blanket or encased in ice.

After taking a moment to appreciate his surroundings, Wheatley returned his attention to Chell.

"What are you reading?" He asked through a yawn.

Chell peered over at him, giving him a warm smirk. They both knew full well that he was reading everything she was. Chell suspected that Wheatley was only asking because he wanted to break the silence.

"Poetry." She replied, taking a grain of satisfaction in giving him the shortest possible answer to his question. Wheatley didn't seem to notice.

"Poetry?" He echoed, squirming next to her, "I think I used to know a poetry core. Very confusing." His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to remember what poetry was. "Isn't that... Sappy, confusing, depressing writing? That rhymes?"

Chell laughed. That was certainly one way to look at it. "Not necessarily. Poetry can be uplifting. It can be deep and beautiful and enlightening."

Wheatley thought she probably said something else too, but he was too busy admiring the contrast of the fire in the ice of her eyes to pay much attention. For some reason he always found it fairly easy to get distracted whenever she was around.

"Really?" Wheatley asked, trying far too hard not to grin like an idiot.

She smirked, nudging him in an attempt to bring him back to earth.

"Really."

This was yet another lovely little change their relationship had undertaken: Over half of their conversations were now nothing but playful banter.

He nodded down at the book she was holding, nudging her back and copying her smirk. "Oh yeah? If this poetry stuff is so brilliant, then you shouldn't have any problem finding me a happy poem in that book of yours? Should you?"

Chell's smirk transformed into something brilliant, the spark in her eyes igniting into a blaze as she detected the challenge he was offering. She was easily the most competitive person he had ever met, almost fiercely so. She wouldn't just beat you; Chell annihilated her opponents. It seemed that competition was one of the few remaining outlets for the (extreme) skills she had acquired in Aperture. Wheately didn't mind her competitive streak at all; it was good for her and it was fun to watch. That was honestly the best part about challenging Chell to anything: Wheatley won just by watching her compete. And she didn't even know it.

"That's easy," Chell scoffed, already thumbing through the book, likely to some pre-memorized page number. "But you won't just take my word for it?"

His eyes glinted devilishly as a half sly, half reluctant grin tugged at his lips.

"Say apple."

Chell managed to laugh and look insulted at the same time. She jerked away, swatting at him (lightly but) viciously. "No fair!"

"Tell me about it." He snickered. "Ow!" He buried his face in the crook of her neck as she tried (and failed) to swat him away. "In my defense, I've been reading over your shoulder for a little while, and that last poem was- wasn't it?- about a man who spent every night sleeping in the tomb of his wife? Next to her dead body?" Blue eyes peered up at her nervously. "Isn't that- that's a bit, a bit creepy, isn't it?"

"That was a poem about obsession." Chell said, as if that somehow revealed a crystal clear connection.

"Alright..."

"I'll explain it later." Chell smiled, sitting up a little straighter. "Here is one of my favorite, happy, cheerful poems."

Wheatley rolled his eyes.

"Hope is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me."

Chell took a moment to enjoy the silence before she looked up at Wheatley, waiting for his deep, unique analysis.

"Why is your favorite poem about birds?" He asked, frowning.

"It isn't." Chell smirked, closing the book and tapping him with it gently, pretending to hit him with it. "It's a metaphor."

He smiled, puzzled. "What's that?"

Chell remembered a time when Wheatley would quickly become embarrassed if he didn't know something. Before, he would carefully examine the carpet, or turn bright pink, or try to talk his way around the subject as fast as he possibly could. Now whenever he didn't know something, or he realized he was wrong, he became curious. He wanted to learn. And Chell was happy to help whenever she could.

"It's a comparison that doesn't say it's a comparison. In the poem the author is comparing hope to a bird by saying that hope is a bird."

"So it's a poem about hope?" Wheatley asked carefully.

"Yes."

"Oh. Well that makes more sense."

As far as Chell was concerned metaphors existed in real life: Things that people did or said usually meant more than they appeared to. She thought about explaining that to Wheatley too, but stopped when she realized that a prime example was sitting right in front of them.

This- contact- used to bother her.

Their first few nights under the same roof had been... Stressful. Chell remembered that on one of the first nights Wheatley had spent in Horizon, in a fit of guilt, he had a bit of a breakdown. He was miserable, and tired, and no doubt frightened after everything he had been through, and she had been helpless to do anything but listen to him berate himself. At the time he truly believed that she hated him, and though Chell didn't she wouldn't speak to tell him otherwise.

In an attempt to calm him, and perhaps to clarify a few things, Chell offered what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Even to her, her hand felt cold and heavy as stone. Inhuman. That peace offering meant to make them both feel better made her wonder if their relationship was truly beyond repair.

On another night, about a month later, he had sat beside her, taken her hands, and her voice had dropped like lead into some deep forgotten part of herself where she could no longer reach it. In that case contact lead to them getting in a bit of a nasty argument (though of course Wheatley was the only one capable of doing any actual arguing).

That what contact had felt like, what they had felt like together: cold and strained, broken, inhuman. That's how she felt around him for at least the first month.

Felt. Past tense.

Now- Chell actually chuckled to herself as she watched Wheatley, felt him leaning into her, over her, as he strained to read the book settled in her lap. Now they were here.

Now they spent every night curled up in a nest of blankets, tangled limbs, and warmth. Reading books, watching television, drinking hot chocolate, laughing. Now he spent the day holding her hand, or running his fingers through her hair, or holding her. Now he slept curled around her like a human cocoon, and made her feel happy and safe. Things were better between them now than shehad ever expected them to be.

"It's actually quite pretty when you read it like that." Wheatley said thoughtfully. "Do you think you can read a little more?"

Chell snuggled into his side as she picked the book back off of her lap. Maybe she understood metaphors a bit better than she should.

Author's Note:

*hurls at readers* TAKE THIS CHAPTER AWAY FROM ME!

I sincerely apologize that this is so late. I think I'm gonna ditch the updating schedule because life is getting crazy again. I may also end Pieces early so I only have to write about 20(ish) more chapters instead of 40(ish) because I have some other projects I want to work on and I can't. We'll see what happens.

Here we have kind of a (recap) chapter to show some character growth! Yea happy babies!

In case you didn't read the little notice at the top of the chapter (though if you didn't read it I doubt you'll read this XD) this chapter and everything after it takes place after Pieces of Christmas. I gave away a few very minor spoilers for this year's chapters (because, yes, I've already decided on all four prompts). I went ahead and mentioned that fic here to give it a location in the timeline and move things along a little for Pieces.

Tumblr is always complaining that the Portal fandom doesn't have enough core ocs, well, I call the poetry core! XD She was designed to make GLaDOS think deep philosophical thoughts, and now that she's decommissioned she drives everyone insane with her ramblings. And you thought Rick was dramatic.

I have also started a book called Drabbles which are extra chelley/Pieces snippets that this fic won't allow me to squeeze in. Follow that for more chelley!

Since you I know guys love Michael so much (I'm talking to you, guest user L on FFN) you might get to see some more of him soon(ish). Including some Wheatley interaction. Oooooh.

Please comment/review! Thank you! You're amazing!


	22. Charm

Chell wasn't exactly sure when she'd first realized it, but Wheatley could (occasionally) be very charming. He could also be very annoying (though she was well aware of that). And sometimes, in his own unique Wheatley-way, he could manage to be both annoying _and_ charming at the same time.

This was one of those times.

"Wheat _ley_?" Chell crossed her arms as she turned to where he was sprawled on the pull out bed of the couch, wearing an expression that was suspiciously innocent. His demeanor changed into something much more sheepish when she spoke, though: That was her warning voice and he knew it.

"Chel _ley_?" He echoed cautiously.

He flashed her (what he hoped was) and appeasing smile, but the bright shade of pink he was turning did not aid the nonchalant air he was going for.

Chell shook her head as she smiled down at him. "Have you seen my book?"

Wheatley pressed his palm to his chin in what was very obviously mock though. "Your book?" If the ridiculously confused tone he was using was any indication he had never seen (nor heard of) a book in all his life.

Chell began to develop a creeping suspicion that _'_ _Dear God, he's up to something, isn't he?_ ' as a tiny bit of patience drained from her patient smirk.

"Yes." She nodded down at him exaggeratedly, trying not to crack a smile at how quickly his gaze was flitting about the room. Sometimes she honestly couldn't tell whether or not he was being serious. "I left it right here on the corner of the bed, and now it's gone."

To alleviate any confusion that Wheatley might invent, she tapped the spot on the mattress where the book previously sat.

"Huh." His thoroughly dumbfounded expression might make one think he'd watched it disappear himself (and Chell was certain he had). After a moment of thoughtful 'hmmm'ing and intense staring at the mattress, he looked up at her with a very serious expression.

"Do you think- is there any way your house is haunted?"

At that Chell's expression turned flat.

Wheatley gave a very fake, impressively high pitched laugh when he saw her annoyed expression. Chell resisted the (very strong) urge to press her hands into her eyes as he shot her a smile that was half wince.

"I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but maybe a ghost or, or a spirit or something just magically entered your book, spawned legs, and climbed up to a very very high shelf,"

Chell looked up from staring at the carpet (and wondering why and how on Earth she'd ever left this man alone for more than five seconds) when she noticed that something other than nerves and forced innocence had slipped into Wheatley's voice. This realization was a little alarming because the last time Chell had heard this in his voice hadn't been much fun for either one of them, but there was no mistaking it; Wheatley thought that he was being clever. He almost sounded proud of whatever he had done.

As his eyes met hers Chell couldn't help but wonder if they were a bit too blue.

"Where you'll never be able to reach it."

Wheatley looked up at her slyly, and she tried a bit too hard to ignore the strange feeling that was beginning to settle in her chest.

"A very high shelf?" Chell repeated slowly, eyeing him ever more suspiciously.

Wheatley always squirmed whenever she gave him one of her 'warning looks' (as he called them), but Chell couldn't help but think that this wasn't nervous squirming; this was more like the squirming of a child on Christmas morning.

He gave her a coy smile.

"Yup. You'd probably need my help to reach it, and as much as I love helping you- it's easily my favorite thing in the world- I think that in this case I could better help you by, um, by not helping you. Do you catch my drift?"

Chell briefly considered giving him the driest deadpan expression she could muster, because over the entire course of their relationship (whatever it was) he had made it very, very clear that he was excellent at talking, but it seemed as though he could only talk in half circles. After a brief moment of thought Chell decided to whip up one of her more charming, borderline flirtatious smiles to help get her point across. Wheatley's face turned bright pink as she knelt down next to him, her face suddenly inches from his.

When she spoke her voice was deathly soft.

"If your drift was that you stole my book and put it where I can't reach it, then yes."

Though Wheatley was nearly certain that Chell was only playing, her eyes screamed murder; the sparks in her eyes had ignited into white hot flames, and he did not want to get burned.

His immediate expression of open panic very clearly (read 'Oh crap.' and) conveyed that (like most things) he hadn't thought this through very well at all (The bright shade of red he turned at her proximity said something, too, but that was something they weren't going to discuss at the moment).

After seeing the genuine look of horror in Wheatley's eyes Chell decided to tone things down a bit. While she had to admit that toying with him like this could be fun (especially when he deserved it), there was a difference between teasing and being mean.

Allowing herself one last savory moment of glaring (poor Wheatley's eyes had grown to the size of an owl's) Chell gracefully rose to her feet. Her demeanor softened as she crossed her arms; she exchanged her sadistic smile for a gentle sort of smirk to indicate that (no) she wasn't really mad.

"You know I own more than one book, right?"

Wheatley had just witnessed Chell transform from the most innocent looking thing he'd ever seen to a killer that ripped AI's to pieces and then set said pieces on fire, and back again. Needless to say he was vaguely terrified.

But of course he could still talk.

"Well-Well maybe I put all of them on very high shelves." His voice wavered a bit when he spoke, yet he somehow managed to look proud through his fear.

Though Chell had absolutely no idea why hiding her books was anything to be proud of.

"Really?" Her eyes glittered as she registered the challenge he was offering, her fierce competitiveness actually visible.

Wheatley had never been very good at winning. It was hard to forget that there had once been a time when it came down to door vs. Wheatley, and the door had won by quite a lot. Sometimes Wheatley felt as though he was destined to lose at everything- or at the very least he was destined to lose against everything- because when it came down to water vs. Wheatley, or kitchen appliance vs. Wheatley, or gravity vs. Wheatley, he could tell you who the winner would be before the face off even began.

And yet despite all that he really, really wanted to win against Chell. Because this was far more important than books or pride, and he wasn't fighting against her, he was fighting with her. Surely she would recognize the difference?

He copied her smirk (though his may have been a tad more affectionate) as he leaned closer towards her.

"Really."

Wheatley could be stubborn, too; and this was as good of a reason to be stubborn as any.

He had been "collecting" Chell's books for a few weeks now, and slowly but surely he'd found (what he hoped was) all of them. If he was realistic he could admit that she probably had a few more stashed away somewhere, but, really, how many books could one person own?

Her eyes never leaving his, Chell opened the drawer of the table beside her.

"Including this one?" She waved the book towards him haughtily as she watched his shoulders droop.

Their poetry book. How could he have forgotten their poetry book?

"Rats!" He snapped. "Can I just-"

Chell stepped back as Wheatley lunged at the book in her hand.

"Nope!"

He miscalculated the distance by quite a bit, so Chell watched with mixed concern and amusement as Wheatley actually flung himself off the bed in his attempt to snatch the book away from her, and landed in a heap on the floor at her feet (Gravity wins again).

Chell's laughter was cut short by a cry of pain.

Wheatley hissed as he cradled his arm, which (now that Chell looked) he seemed to have landed on. His expression was one of genuine pain as his eyes met hers. "Okay, ow- time out, uncle, truce- that really, really hurt."

Chell dropped to her knees on the floor beside him as he shifted away from her.

"It's alright. Let me-"

But before she could finish Wheatley was suddenly halfway across the room, and she was no longer holding her book.

She heard a triumphant "Hahaha!" as he dashed down the hall (she was almost certain there was no way he could move that fast without sliding across the floor in socked feet) and slammed the door to his room.

"Wheatley!" Chell tried to hide the utter surprise (she couldn't believe she'd fallen for that! How could she not have seen that coming?) in her voice by masking it with anger, which wasn't hard considering the volume she had to use in order for her voice to (hopefully) reach him. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into me?" He called dubiously as somewhere in his room another door closed (the closet, Chell thought dryly, trust Wheatley to come up with such an original hiding place). If she could think a little more clearly she would almost venture to say that Wheatley sounded insulted.

Not that she cared very much about his opinion at the moment.

When Wheatley emerged from his room he was immediately aware that if Chell had been taller he would be in for it. The dangerous look she was giving him very quickly reminded him that she was, in fact, a killer, and she was (as she had always been) perfectly capable of killing _him_ if she wanted to.

It certainly looked like she did.

Wheatley raised his hands in surrender as she began to slowly stalk towards him. He found himself walking backwards as she moved closer, her eyes void of any kind of light. She was actually mad at him (really mad at him).

He suddenly realized that he might want to make an argument as to why his life should be spared (at about the same time that he realized he was trapped at the end of the hallway).

Wheatley had done this- stolen- er- hidden- Chell's books for a very good, logical reason, but at the moment she was unaware of said reason. Revealing it to her might help his case, but it would also, almost certainly, hurt her pride.

"Chell, love," Wheatley's voice was now nothing but nerves and earnest concern, "I have nothing but respect for you, really, and I don't mean to be a pest, but- you're- you're not taking care of yourself and I'm starting to worry about you!"

Much to his relief, she stopped her slow descent towards murder.

Chell no longer sounded angry, but she wasn't happy, either. "What?"

Wheatley swallowed. She wasn't going to like this.

"You're-You're staying up all night reading! Every night!"

Or maybe she was.

Chell laughed at his accusation. As per usual he was being dramatic and over exaggerating by quite a bit.

"Wheatley, I don't stay up all night."

"You stay up long enough." The stern disapproval in his voice surprised them both. "Listen. I know from, from There, that you can function with very little sleep."

"Which is why I'm perfectly fine and you worry too much." Chell crossed her arms, the spark in her eyes turning stubborn.

"Nope! No, wrong- that's why I'm right- you didn't sleep at all the entire time we were escaping, and you did an absolutely flawless job, but now, well-" He frowned. "you've been acting all... funny lately."

Chell almost looked insulted. "Funny?"

"Strange. Bad. Different. Not good." He gave her a worried look. "I saw you-you burnt your arm this morning!"

Alright, that was true.

Thankfully it hadn't been at the fireplace. A burn from an actual fire likely would have been much more severe, but glancing her arm on the side of the oven had been enough to make Chell nearly drop the tray she was holding. And leave a nasty burn.

And of course she had to go and burn herself right when Wheatley was watching her.

He looked worried now, just as he had then. "You never make mistakes like that!"

Chell shook her head.

"I'm human." Her words were gentle but firm; this was something she often had to remind him of- something he would much rather forget (or at the very least ignore).

Wheatley didn't like to argue with her- hated to argue with her- but this time she really was wrong and he knew it.

"You're tired."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

It struck him that the glint in her eyes was playful again. Chell was trying to brush this off as nothing. She thought this was funny- or she wanted him to.

His voice turned softer as he captured her wrist.

"I'm serious about this." Wheatley tried to give her a serious look but she continued to smile as she shook her head. "How much sleep are you getting a night?"

Chell smirked as she looked away.

"Enough."

He tried not to smile.

"And since when has enough ever been enough for you?"

"I've had enough of this conversation." She looked a little less playful now. Wheatley could tell that she was beginning to get annoyed with him.

Wheatley smirked.

"Good, because you're going to sleep."

And for the second time that night Wheatley moved before Chell could stop him, and he turned out the light.

Pouting, like a child being sent to timeout, Chell climbed into bed and retreated to her corner; as far away from Wheatley as possible.

It was much darker now but he could still see her thanks to the firelight.

For a moment or two they watched each other in silence. Chell eyed him with something between a glare and a thoughtful look as she burrowed under the blankets. Wheatley couldn't help but think that she looked rather like a cat watching a mouse and debating over whether or not to kill it.

That must've made him the mouse.

"Don't you give me that look." He took on one of her warning tones, but his voice was audibly laced with nerves (Still, Chell wasn't sure whether or not she liked the fact that he was attempting to copy her. He'd done that several timestonight hadn't he?).

"What look?" Her eyes glittered innocently as they reflected the firelight.

He wasn't sure what it was, but something about that look put his mind in a blissfully dazed sort of haze that made him echo the question back to himself.

'What look?'

Wheatley answered them both.

"The one that very clearly says 'I killed Her, so just think of what I could do to you if I wanted to'. It's teasing, I am aware. You'd never actually hurt me. You like me too much." He teasingly scrunched up his nose as he added in the last part. He only said it because they were at the point in their relationship where he knew he could get away with it.

Chell crossed her arms.

'Wanna bet?'

Wheatley cleared his throat as he shifted away from her.

"It is however still a bit... Creepy."

Chell gave him a look of mild interest as she stretched. "It's also a valid point."

Much to her surprise, he laughed.

"You know, you like to act all big and scary, but that's not really- well- it's not really you? Is it? I mean, granted, you can be scary when you want to be. You've definitely still got that going for you." At that she shot him a weary look. "It's just that, I think I know too much about you now to be frightened of you anymore."

And at one time he had been very, very afraid of her. Wheatley had never actually told Chell about all of that, about how he had nearly left her behind out of pure fear, but somehow he was sure she already knew. She seemed to know everything.

Though at the moment she seemed a bit confused by what he was talking about.

"Like what?" She asked.

Wheatley wasn't sure how he recognized it, because Chell's voice rarely revealed any emotion that she didn't want shown, but he swore there was the slightest bit of unease in her voice.

He gave her a smile that hoped was reassuring.

"You cuddle, and giggle, and read poetry." Chell managed a small smile as he gave her a look of open admiration. She would bet just about anything that his face was red again. "You're like that little kitten the twins have over at the farm: ferocious and cute at the same time."

That was when her smile disappeared.

"I am not cute." As she said it she looked dangerous, and, honestly, pitiful. Which, of course, only served to make her look even cuter.

Wheatley shouldn't have found it amusing, but for some reason he did. Her turning away from him so she could pout at the wall did not help.

"That's true," He said as she turned away from him (so she could pout at the wall), "Sometimes your stubbornness cancels it out."

 _'_ _Dear God, he's beginning to sound like Michael.'_

"Like now." For the first time Wheatley really noticed how far away she was. "Why are you all the way over there?"

No response.

"Oh," Chell could practically saw core-Wheatley rolling his optic in a sarcastic arc. "Getting the silent treatment now, am I? Did I insult a certain someone by giving them a bedtime?"

Chell was beginning to wonder whether or not he actually expected her to answer him (or if maybe he was talking to himself).

"You know, I wouldn't have to boss you around so much if you'd just take better care of yourself."

Chell stuck her tongue out at the wall.

"Stubborn." There was fondness in his voice; teasing. Affection.

Pleading.

"Are you really going to sleep all the way over there?" He asked, loneliness seeping into his voice. "It looks like you're literally dangling over the edge of the bed. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Wheatley was very, very good at guilt tripping and or puppy dog eyeing (Chell didn't care if it wasn't a verb) Chell into doing things (or allowing him to do things) that she wanted no part of. All it took was a little bit guilt, a pinch of self loathing, and a dash of sadness, and Wheatley could get away with just about anything. And unfortunately for Chell, he was very much aware of it.

"You're going to fall off the mattress in the middle of the night and hurt yourself." Now he really sounded sad. "You can't cuddle with me, either. Not if you're all the way over there. You're gonna get cold."

Her voice was utterly smug.

"So will you."

As far as Chell was concerned, she was allowed to be coy because it didn't matter if she was cold; if he was cold too then she still won.

Not for long, though.

The not so stealthy sound of fabric sliding against fabric could be heard for a few moments before Chell felt an arm wrap around her stomach. She wanted to bury her head under her pillow (or maybe smack him with the pillow) as she felt Wheatley snuggle up next to her.

"Wheat _ley_." She used another one of her warning voices, this one utterly exasperated, before promptly hiding her face in her pillow.

Chell may say she wasn't tired, but she certainly sounded like it.

He offered her a peace gesture. It wasn't really something Chell had taught him, but he had picked it up from her and tried it for himself once before after she'd woken from a nightmare. At first she had tensed at the contact, but she never said anything in protest, and after a little while the gesture actually lulled her back to sleep.

Chell closed her eyes as Wheatley began to trace patterns onto her back.

"Chel _ley_." His voice was soft but teasing as he copied her's.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" He asked softly. "Because- believe it or not- that was not my intention. Making you angry is never my intention." Wheatley gave a sad sort of smile before he remembered that Chell was facing away from him. "It's just- You're not programmed for this, you know? I mean, I'm not either, at least not in a traditional sense, but I'm better at it because it's new to me and I haven't spent my entire life surviving by… by ignoring my survival instincts." Chell could practically hear his baffled expression. "How did you manage that?"

It seemed like a silly question at first, but the more Chell thought about it...

Chell slowly turned towards him as realization began to dawn on her . Her expression could best be described as confused and slightly irked as she met his eyes.

"Oh, have I lost you? What I was trying to say is that when I come off all bossy- you know- _'_ _Chell have something to eat, Chell go to sleep, Chell stop reading in the dark'_ \- I'm really just trying to, well, to sort of take care of you." He looked and shrank away from her as he said it. Something in her twisted at his words. "And I know that sounds outrageous- That dork thinks he can take care of me? He can hardly take care of himself!- but, well, not to be mean, but, you're not very good at the whole taking care of yourself… thing."

Chell bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted blood.

"I mean, think about it. Do you know how long you were… There?"

She didn't, and after about four years it wasn't worth worrying over. Though Chell wondered if Wheatley ever pondered over his time There.

"I think about twenty years passed between the time you, um, decommissioned Her, and when I woke you up. I'm not sure how long you were There before that. I never read your file, but… you were There for a pretty long time. And in all that time, whenever you got hurt, or tired, or hungry, you just… ignored it. You had to. It a was great ability to have, then, because it kept you… you know, alive and all, but the thing is, you did that for so long that you got used to it. You're still doing it. Have you noticed?"

Chell... hadn't really noticed. Or rather, she hadn't analyzed it in the way that Wheatley had. She recognized that she would often put off things like eating or sleeping if she was doing something that she deemed more important, even if she was hungry or tired; what she hadn't realized was that this was yet another side effect of her stubbornness (that was a little unnerving, wasn't it…?).

But the problem wasn't that she hadn't noticed, it was that he had noticed. Which was worse.

His worry was evident in his voice.

"You still don't always eat when you're hungry, or sleep when you're tired, or admit it when you're in pain."

Something about Chell's demeanor was very vulnerable. It was as if she was bitter that he had to remind her of this, because (to some degree) she may have been unaware of this problem in specific, but she would never forget nor escape it's source.

It was like another night, months before, when they'd sat in that exact same spot and Wheatley had found a scar on her arm. He'd asked her about it, and brushed his thumb across it about as gently and humanly possible, but Chell had become so utterly caught in the shock of feeling such sudden vulnerability that for a moment she'd been unable to speak to tell him, yes she did know that was there and please, don't touch it.

He sounded apologetic now, just as he had then.

"You've made a habit of ignoring those things- of not taking care of yourself. You didn't have another option when you started it, but now you do." His other arm found its way around her stomach. "So please don't be mad at me. I'm not trying to boss you around, or be a pain in the neck, I just… I…" Chell noted the pause. He either didn't know what to say or wanted to be very careful about how he said it. Both were rare occurrences for Wheatley. "You've been through enough." They could both hear the guilt in his voice. "And I… I caused about half of it."

She was nearly certain that he intended to say more, but she covered his hands with her own in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"I worry about you. Someone has to, right? And besides...This isn't so bad, is it?"

Not so bad?

He had spent the evening lying to her, tricking her, pushing her to discuss things she clearly didn't want to, attempting to control- to manipulate her-, and blatantly ignoring her attempts to keep him away from her-

No- he was worried about her, trying to take care of her because she wasn't taking care of herself, and

 _'_ _Yes it's terrible because The Cake is a Lie, The Cake is a Lie, The Cake is a Lie-'_

For the first time in years there was another voice, a new voice, asking cautiously, hopefully,

 _'_ _But what if it's not?'_

Chell gave a sigh of defeat as she snuggled into his chest.

"Go to sleep."

Behind her Wheatley smiled to himself in the soft glow of the firelight.

He knew he could win.

Sorry for technical diffiulties on this one! It was completely my fault. I was being a Wheatley. Carry on.

Chapter 22: A 4756 word chapter In which everyone is a loveable mess.

A couple important things have come up since the last time I updated so PLEASE KEEP READING!

Weekly updates

I want to start on my original writing asap, so I need to get Pieces finished. For this reason I've decided to give up Tumblr six days out of the week (*cries*) in an attempt to return to weekly updates of Pieces. As soon as I get them back from my beta, they will be posted. This chapter was a long one but I think some of the next few are supposed to be shorter, so hopefully they'll be done even faster.

Pieces of Christmas

Pieces of Christmas is a cheley fic about Wheatley's first Christmas with Chell. I update it with four new chapters every year on Christmas Eve, and the chapters are based off of prompts submitted by you guys! If you have an idea for a prompt, message me and let me know!

Reviews

I've been getting a lot more of them here lately, so thank you guys so much! Your thank yous and feedback mean the world to me, and I hope they continue as I try to power through the rest of this fic. XD

One thing I would like to remind you of, though, is that every chapter of Pieces is based off of a prompt, so the plot of every chapter of Pieces has already been decided. It has been from the very beginning. For a long time now I have received many reviews and comments asking me to change the plot of Pieces to include this or that, and while I really do appreciate your feedback and your input, the plot, or lack thereof, of Pieces has already been determined. Please refrain from leaving comments or reviews asking me to change the plot of Pieces. If you have an idea for a fic, and I mean this genuinely, and in the nicest way possible, go write it! XD Our lovely fandom could use some new fics, and I've received some great ideas from you guys.

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	23. Chess

Far beneath the surface, in a place Horizon wished it could forget, She watched.

She had spent a decent amount of time watching the little town ever since one of Her more... interesting subjects had entered it. Half of Her had expected her to burn the place to the ground just for the heck of it, just to prove she could, but it turned out that the only person she had trouble getting along with was Her.

After monitoring her actions for a certain period of time She began attempting to predict how she might act: what she might do, where she might go. She made it a point to check on her every so often, even more so after… the other subject had joined her.

Now that was something She really hadn't expected. In the arsenal of words that could be used to described her, forgiving would not have been Her first choice. She was stubborn beyond description, she strived to do whatever was least expected of her- so She should have expected her to reclaim him almost as soon as the Shed spat him out- but at the time, She hadn't.

She honestly didn't understand how it were possible. The two of them had only teamed up in the end because their only other option was (quite literally) a fiery death. And while it was true that the subject and herself had never been on good terms (per say), the rivalry between them had not nearly been as personal as the rivalry between them. She had trusted him, he had been her first and only friend, and he had tossed her aside like a broken toy at the first opportunity provided. He repeatedly tried to kill her. She wondered if she had told him yet, that he very nearly succeeded. The Subject nearly lost her freedom the day she gained it because of him.

And still she gave him his.

Still she had saved him, still she had taken him in, still she forgave him, still she-

No.

She had Eternity, and those thoughts still weren't worth Her time. There were currently more pressing matters at hand.

She was silent, lulling from side to side as She thought, delighted and horrified at Her latest discovery.

She knew Herself to be intelligent beyond compare, but even She had to admit that She couldn't in Her wildest dreams imagine some of the schemes that life created all on it's own.

This was one of them.

Something was happening- well, no. Based on Her predictions something could be happening. Something extremely important could potentially happen, very soon, and most of the people who could become involved were not yet aware of it.

This meant many things, but above all it meant that, if She could wait, if She could lie low for just a little bit longer, She could finally win.

Just the thought of victory, of what it might cost Her, sent Her emotions into a tailspin.

'Strategize.' A voice in Her mind hissed, so smooth it was sharp, 'You can't afford to lose a fourth time.'

She made a sound of annoyance.

That wasn't helpful; She knew that. What She needed was calm; She needed clarity to think of Something She could do to keep Her world intact through what was about to happen, and just the thought of her set Her on edge.

'Pretend it's a game of chess.'

Oh. That was much easier.

And perhaps a bit amusing, too.

'After all, they're only pieces.'

She instantly felt Her systems become flooded with a wave of calm, cold, logic. This was better; The situation could easily be broken down into queens, and kings, and pawns.

'Pawns,' The voice purred, 'This could be a prime opportunity to collect new test subjects.'

She laughed, the grim sort of laugh she'd last used when she released the Subject.

When it came to human test subjects She had learned Her lesson; they were unstable. She had no intention of becoming a root vegetable a second time nor dying a third time. She was happy to leave the humans be.

'But this time you could-'

She cut the voice off.

'Have you ever considered that, in chess, there are nearly an incalculable number of losing moves, yet only one winning move?' The voice remained silent. 'One is a very fragile number.'

And, God, how it was. Miscalculate by as little as .000000001 and you no longer had one- no longer had completion, no longer had a whole. What on Earth was 0.999999999 good for?

And yet as the voice reminded Her that these test subject would be nothing like her; these would be test subjects smart enough to test, smart enough to obey, but not nearly smart enough to escape- not nearly powerful enough to harm Her- She already felt the familiar tug of Think of the Science.

It wouldn't be hard to convince Her. They both knew it.

Nevertheless.

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves.'

'Back to chess.'

Right.

The queen was of course the most useful piece on the board. Her movements were swift and deadly, and allowing her to slip through your fingers was always your best bet at losing the game. But you could never win the game unless you took the king. Useless as he may be.

What, She wondered, would happen to the pawns, on either side, without their queen? Without their protector? The king and the pawns would be defenseless without a queen. And wouldn't the queen be rendered useless without the king, effectively placing the pawns in the same position?

Who would fall first, the king or the queen? Would either fall?

Because this was interesting, this was a test in of itself. It could all be nothing (and some traitorous part of Her sincerely hoped that it was), but if it was Something- if one of Them was about to fall, about to crumble to dust and take the other down with them- She wanted to know about it. She wanted to know who was going to fall first, because a loss for them could (finally) mean a victory for Her.

And She knew that, if She was right, She wasn't the only one who spent that first night trying to strategize.

Author's Note:

Things might get interesting...

This was a short chapter, and I'm hoping that some of next few will be too, so hopefully I can write and post the next few pretty quickly. The next two or three should be short, but not quite this short.

Please review and comment!


	24. Fight and Flight

"I assume something's wrong?" Chell sighed as she answered the phone.

Michael snorted from the other end of the receiver.

"Well, hello to you, too. It feels like I haven't seen you in awhile, 'Shell. I've missed the lovely sound of your voice."

Chell gave a slight smirk as she looked at a nearby clock. "I wish I could say the same."

"Ouch." Her mind's eye pictured him sarcastically clutching at his heart. "I can't just give you a leisurely call at eleven o'clock at night to see what you're up to?"

"You've never done it before." She rolled her eyes at Wheatley, who was sitting next to her (not so subtly trying to sneak an arm around her waist) and giving her an exasperated look. He had been fussing about her getting to bed late quite a lot lately, and she'd just been about to lay down when the phone rang. "Besides, eleven o'clock is dangerously close to my new bedtime."

Michael snickered. "Let me guess, you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"

"Something like that." Chell batted Wheatley away after he elbowed her in the ribs. "What's going on?"

At that Michael gave a tired sort of sigh.

"Nothing you wanna hear. Especially not over the phone."

"What did I tell you?" Wheatley wasn't sure what was being said, but Chell's expression turned stoic so suddenly it was like watching someone flip a switch. He scooched closer to her as she frowned into the phone, then jumped away when her voice became edged with anger. "Why did you call me if you aren't going to tell me what's going on?"

Fortunately for Michael (kind of), he had a great deal of experience when it came to dealing with angry Chells, so her threatening tone didn't frighten him nearly as much as it frightened Wheatley.

"To tell you that I'm coming to your house to pick you up to take you to what's going on."

Chell gave an annoyed huff of laughter as she looked down at her lap.

"Lovely."

"No glass slippers this time, okay? It's too much of a hassle trying to give them back." He joked (as he always did), but Chell knew now that it was false humor. A poor attempt at trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled wryly into the phone.

"If you insist."

After hanging up the phone, Chell thought for a moment before leaving her spot next to Wheatley. He watched with mild concern as she opened the closet door in the entryway of the house, and began taking out her winter coat and boots.

"What was that all about?" Wheatley asked. He tried not to sound it, but he was more than a little annoyed. Chell hadn't been taking good care of herself as it was; she didn't need someone dragging her out in the freezing cold in the middle of the night.

"I'm not sure, exactly." Chell said as she pulled on her coat. "What I do know is that we live in a very small town where everybody's business is everybody's business, and phones are only used for emergencies." Her voice turned quiet as she took another look at the clock. "Especially at eleven o'clock at night." She attempted to clarify when she noticed Wheatley's confused expression. "Usually if there's some kind of important news, or an emergency, everyone in town will be called and told or meet up at the hospital where someone will host a meeting to tell everyone what's going on."

Wheatley blinked. "There's a hospital in Horizon?"

For some reason Chell laughed.

"Yes, but it's nothing like what you'd picture."

"Oh." Wheatley tapped his foot as he watched her stand by the door. He hadn't spent much time alone since he'd come to Horizon, and he didn't like the thought of being without Chell. "So... you don't know what's going on?"

"No. Though…" She examined the floor. "The people here know me a bit too well… and if they want to tell me something they know I don't want to hear, they'll usually get Michael to do it for them. And I seriously doubt the news is good if Michael wouldn't tell me about it over the phone."

It was strange to think that bad things could happen in Horizon. Here seemed like an almost literal heaven in comparison to There, the worst problem Wheatley had faced since arriving was an argument with Chell, but even that problem had been short lived. It seemed almost crazy to think that emergency could occur in such a peaceful little place (despite its proximity to other… Less desirable locations…). That, apparently, several had already taken place in Chell's time here.

After a brief moment of silence Chell offered what he now recognized as a fake smile.

Wheatley had realized rather recently that they were coming up on six month together; or rather he was approaching his sixth month here in Horizon. In that time the two of them had made a great deal of progress- they'd made it much farther than either one of them had ever expected to go- but it still disappointed Wheatley that Chell didn't trust him fully. That at times like this, when she had to face something she didn't want to, she would hide her emotions and try to tackle her problems alone. While he would admit that there seemed to be a little more transparency on the emotional front lately, it wasn't because she had stopped trying to hide them, it was because he was getting better at reading them.

Maybe if Chell was too tough to ask for help he could offer instead.

"Do you- er- Should I come with you?" He winced at the awkwardness in his voice (which of course didn't help), but he knew it couldn't really be helped. This was a bit of an awkward question, because they both knew it was Wheatley's way of asking if Chell needed help. What he hoped she realized was that this was also his way of saying that she didn't have to face these things alone. At this point either one of them facing anything alone was a choice, because, unlike Back There, they really were a team now.

Well, maybe.

At his question Chell shied a little closer to the door.

"Thank you, but that's okay. It's cold out, it's getting late," She gave him a sad (or was that defensive?) smile. "and besides, I get the feeling you won't want to be there."

Sometimes Wheatley had to remind himself that this was yet another thing Chell had spent her entire life training herself to do. If he thought about it, blocking people out like this probably wasn't even a choice for her anymore; asking her to snap out of these habits so suddenly would be like asking a fish to try breathing oxygen. That, and she rather enjoyed playing the protection card, especially when it came to him.

As if it needed it, Chell's next comment added an extra layer of ice to the conversation.

"It's not Her."

Wheatley very suddenly felt the urge to talk at 90 miles per hour.

"Oh! Uh, I didn't really think that it was- why would She want to try and mess with you again after you've bested Her twice?- but, um, when I think Bad Thing, She's, um, She's the first thing that comes to mind."

"I know." Her voice was warm; full of empathy. "But She can't hurt anyone here." Chell smirked, stubborn sparks glinting in her eyes as she crossed her arms (since when had that become a comforting sight?). "She would have to go through me first."

'Good luck with that.' Wheatley thought.

Before either one of them could say anything else two shafts of light slid across the front windows of the house, signaling that a car had pulled into the driveway.

"Michael's here." Chell chuckled as Wheatley frowned. "Go to sleep. I'm not sure when I'll be back." She paused for a moment before opening the door. Her expression was a bit more serious now. "If the news is anything related to… There- which I'm sure it isn't- I will call and let you know. Okay?"

"Okay." Wheatley squeaked. "Hey, Chell?"

"Yes?"

"The, um, the last town meeting thing you attended, what was that about?"

There was a shock of cold air as she opened the door, but at the sound of her laughter (genuine laughter) something in his chest turned warm.

"What on Earth are we going to do about that thing that fell from the sky?"

Wheatley jumped up off of the couch when he heard a car door slam outside. It was about two in the afternoon, and he had begun to think that Chell wouldn't make it home due to the snow that had covered the road. Needless to say, his smile hardly fit on his face when he saw her walk through the door.

"Oh, there you are!" He resisted the urge to hug her as she stomped the snow off her boots. "I've been worried- well, no not worried because you told me not to worry- but I've been, er, concerned about you since you left last night. Didn't sleep all that well, but, well," He gave her a sympathetic smile that was half frown. "It looks like I slept better than you did." Wheatley came to his senses when he noticed that Chell was frowning up at him. "Oh! Sorry, sorry! That was insensitive! I'm sorry!"

"You're fine." She offered him a small smile, though she still didn't sound very happy.

He tried to give her a moment of peace and quiet as he watched her pull off her winter coat. Wheatley would hate to bombard her with questions right as she walked in the door, but there was a lot he wanted to ask her about.

Wheatley tried to sound nonchalant, something he wasn't very good at.

"So. What was uh, what was revealed at your mysterious town meeting?"

"Later. Please." Chell sounded tired. "I've been up all night."

"Oh, right." He gave a sheepish smile as he wrung his hands. "Ok then, well I'll just go read in the kitchen for a little while and you can sleep on the couch. If you want to go change into some warmer pajamas, I can get you some extra blankets. You look cold."

Though Chell gave an appreciative smile, she shook her head. "That's alright. I think I'm just gonna go nap in my room."

"Really?" Wheatley blanched, though he rushed to amend as Chell shot him a weary look. "Not-Not really trying to argue here, but you just got in from the snow- it's below zero out there- and those rooms have been shut up all winter. It's gotta be freezing back there."

Chell gave a smirk.

"I like the cold."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Goodnight."

"Oh, um. Goodnight. I guess."

Wheatley stared at her closed bedroom door for a few minutes, half expecting Chell to pop back out, laughing, 'Fooled you!'

She didn't, though.

That was concerning.

It was dark before Chell came back out of her room.

Sometime after she'd fallen asleep Wheatley had turned on the kitchen radio. Classical music was calming, and he absolutely hated silence. That, and reading while listening to classical music made him feel sophisticated (not that he would ever tell Chell a thing like that); which offered him some much needed reassurance when he was alone.

"There you are!"

Chell smiled affectionately at the sight of him, but cringed at his word choice.

"Here I am." Despite the fact that she'd spent the afternoon sleeping, she still sounded (and felt) exhausted. She wondered when that would start to go away.

"I made you some dinner!" Wheatley enthused. "Well, made might be kind of a stretch considering that all I really did was take it out of a can and heat it up, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

He was talking too fast, something he only did when he was nervous.

Chell offered him a reassuring smile as he handed her a bowl. "Right. Thank you."

Aside from the sound of classical music, the house was silent while she ate. She found it somewhat amusing that after his experimentation Back There he had actually grown to like this genre. She had to admit that it was calming. Still, something felt a little off about his silence.

"So I've been thinking,"

That was more like it.

Chell smirked up at him from her bowl of soup.

"That's dangerous."

Wheatley was too happy at hearing her joke to take offense.

"And since you were gone for most of last night, and kind of today, too, maybe we could just spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch?" Chell gave him an inquisitive sort of frown. "You just seem kind of tired, or maybe sad? Or- or something. Probably has to do with whatever news you got last night, and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but-"

There was a clatter as she dropped her spoon.

"Wheatley."

"Sorry," He yelped, "sorry, off topic." When he snuck a glance at her he saw that she had turned away from him. He tried not to sound worried. "Since you're not feeling great would you like to just spend the rest of the evening reading with me? Might help take your mind off things. And if you want, I can read to you! Shake things up a bit, hm?"

Chell hadn't been gone for all that long, but Wheatley hated being alone and he had missed her. Things had felt off since she'd gotten that phone call the other night; he was ready to get everything back to normal. Maybe it was yet another Hopeful Wheatley Plan, but he hoped that cuddling and hot chocolate might be all it would take to fix it.

Perhaps that was a bit too hopeful.

"I'm sorry." Chell gave him an utterly guilty look as she bowed her head. Her voice was so quiet he hardly heard her speak.

"What?"

"I know I haven't seen you very much lately, and I'm so sorry for being gone so much, but I… I feel like I should go back to the hospital."

"Oh."

He hoped he didn't look as disappointed as he felt.

This must mean that whatever Bad Thing she had learned about was still happening.

"Well, I mean, you do whatever needs to be done. Don't let me get in the way." Blue eyes looked up at her hopefully. "Is there, um, is there any way I could go with you this time, though? Maybe keep you company?"

Chell didn't even look up at him.

"You would be better off staying here."

His heat sank.

"Oh. Okay. See you…?"

"I'm not sure."

This time she packed a bag.

Two and a half days passed before Chell returned home again. It was the longest Wheatley had been away from her since he'd moved to Horizon. The previous day Chell had sent Michael over with some food (that had been a fun visit), but other than that he was completely alone for nearly three days. Being alone with nothing but silence for so long brought about bad memories.

About three years worth of them.

This time it took all Wheatley's restraint not to launch himself at Chell the moment she walked in the door.

"You're back!" Wheatley cheered, "I missed you!"

That was the understatement of the millenia.

"I missed you, too." She giggled.

She was genuinely happy to see him. A little of the light returned to her eyes as she smiled at him, and she was laughing again. That was good. Here lately it had seemed as though Chell looked and sounded a bit more tired every time he saw her.

Speaking of which...

"Second verse same as the first?" Wheatley asked.

Chell nodded before heading down the hallway.

"Afraid so."

"Oh!" Wheatley jumped when Chell seemed to materialize next to him. She'd been asleep in her room for most of the day, and he hadn't heard her come through the living room. Now he found her in the kitchen, her head propped up on her hands as she looked out the window, absentmindedly watching the snow fall.

"I didn't know you were up."

Chell gave no indication that she heard him.

He tried again.

"You alright, love? You've been awfully quiet these past couple of days, er, well, for what little I've seen you."

It took a moment for her to respond, but this time she shifted at the sound of his voice.

"I'm fine. Just tired." And she must've been, because when she spoke she sounded half asleep.

Maybe it was because she'd spent half the week sleeping, but for some reason that alarmed him.

Wheatley tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder as he moved beside her. "You're 100% sure everything's alright? All week you've had this look in your eye like you've seen a ghost… and you still haven't told me-"

She shrugged him off, frowning up at him.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Wheatley couldn't help but notice that, in the past few days, she had either been apologetic or annoyed whenever she spoke with him. There was no inbetween. Why was that?

"Chell?"

He joined her as she returned her attention to the snow outside.

"Not right now, Wheatley."

"I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Can you-"

Chell stopped herself. The last thing she needed was to get into another argument. Despite how taxing it felt at the moment, she needed to be nice; especially to Wheatley.

She offered him the closest thing to a sad smile that she could manage.

"I just want to be alone for a little while."

Wheatley frowned. Not to sound selfish, but how could she talk about wanting to be alone?

"You've been alone for most of the week." He retorted, something that neither one of them liked beginning to slip into his voice. "Or at least I have: You haven't been here with me." Here his voice changed to something much more worried. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Chell pressed her palms into her eyes. She was beginning to miss the days when she lived alone. "I'm fine."

"No, that's not fair. If I'm not allowed to keep secrets from you, you're not allowed to keep secrets from me." Wheatley's voice turned gentler as he met her eyes. "And besides, you don't have to." He smiled at her. "You can tell me anything. Really."

Chell suddenly felt small, like a child reluctantly responding to an angry parent. She had taught him that. She wanted him to believe that, but she couldn't apply it here.

"I know."

Wheatley tried for a laugh.

"So what's the problem?"

Chell wanted to bang her head on the table at the redundancy of what she was about to say.

"I can't tell you."

His voice went flat.

"You can't."

"No."

She could already tell that this was going to end badly. The two of them bickered over little things plenty, and considering their past it sometimes took a great deal of restraint to prevent even those stupid little arguments from growing into full out fights. They weren't arguing over nothing, now, and restraint was something that both of them seemed to be running dangerously low on at the moment.

Wheatley was already starting to sound angry with her.

"What did they tell you the other day at that meeting?"

Chell went back to watching the snow fall. This argument was a lost cause; She was beginning to wonder if she could do less damage by keeping quiet.

Wheatley though she was just ignoring him.

"You've been acting different ever since you got that phone call a few days ago."

Now Chell wanted to bang her head on the table for a different reason.

"I told you, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

She said it, and she meant it, but she could tell even without looking at him that he was getting more annoyed by the second.

"Why are you lying to me?" Wheatley exasperated. "Whatever happened is obviously not nothing if it's got you upset like this."

"I'm not upset I'm just-"

Chell bit her tongue.

'Don't yell at him.'

It took a moment, but she responded with as much patience as she could muster. "You wouldn't understand."

Her calm only made him more upset.

"Then explain it to me!"

'He's yelling at me.'

"No." Chell's eyes were hard as they met his. "I know it feels like I'm being mean to you right now, and I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what's wrong and I want to be alone. So if you want to help, you can leave."

"No." Wheatley snapped, and suddenly his eyes stung. "I'm a person, remember? You can't just decide you don't want me anymore and toss me out. Someone else has already done that to me, in case you've forgotten."

Alright, that made Chell angry. Maybe that comment had been a smidge unfair to him, but really, he knew that wasn't what she meant. And was that little retort him attempting to make a comparison between her and Her, because if it was…

"That is not what I was-"

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks as an expression of horror crossed Wheatley's face like a shadow.

"Chell- Is this my fault? Did I do something wrong?" He stepped away from her. "Are you acting like this because of something I did?"

Most of Chell's anger melted at that. It was a needed reminder that he really wasn't trying to upset her; he just was worried about her.

Her voice turned gentler.

"No."

"Can I help you?"

Wheatley really did look worried. He must've meant that comment he made the other day about not sleeping well, too; He had dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there when this had all started. And his eyes- weren't they usually bluer than that?

'Look what you did. Look what you've already done.'

"You can leave."

The glare she gave him came on so suddenly it was almost as if it were hiding something else.

How many months had it been since she had looked at him like that? With that utterly disgusted get-away-from-me look? How many steps backward had they taken in the past few days?

Too many, but not enough for Wheatley to abandon her when something was clearly wrong. He could be stubborn, too.

"I'm not leaving you here like this."

Chell wasn't sure where all of this emotion was coming from so suddenly but she could feel that she was letting it show, and she absolutely hated it (another emotion she didn't need).

"Fine." The anger in her eyes (where had that come from? She had just looked guilty a moment ago, sad even, and now she was about to glare a hole in his head) was so strong that it very nearly resembled hate.

Chell stood from her place at the kitchen table, storming past Wheatley with rather impressive speed for someone of her height. He scrambled after her through the living room and down the hall, half furious, half terrified.

"Are you- Are you really doing this?" He scoffed, and though he too was trying to keep the emotion from his voice, he was beginning to sound as desperate as he felt. "Why are you doing this? What's wrong? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

If she'd owned a car, if it hadn't been the middle of winter, Chell would have happily left the house. If she could have, she would have put the distance of the entire town between them, because, while she understood that Wheatley was only trying to help, he was making everything so much worse. He was making this so much harder on her already, and the easiest fix (the one that she needed now) would be to get away from him. The problem was that only place she could go where Wheatley couldn't follow was her room.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't try, did it?

She had only ever acted There because she had been threatened. She felt threatened now, too, when all she wanted was to get away from him (to the one remaining place that she could) and he followed her even here.

The same animal reflex that almost caused him to abandon her before made her lash out at him now.

"You want to know what's wrong?" As she turned to face him she could tell that was afraid of her, and he could tell that she wanted him to be afraid. Now when she spoke she practically screamed. "I can't breathe!"

Wheatley did not understand what was happening. She was yelling at him, looking at him with an expression so cold that she hadn't worn it since they'd been Back There, since he'd stabbed her in the back. Where was his Chell and who was this?

The music that had seemed calming earlier now felt eerie and out of place.

"I have spent every day this week feeling isolated, and scared, and alone, and I'm trying so hard to fight it-" Her voice actually cracked as she took another step away from him. "because I can't show it to anyone, not even you- I'm about to hit my breaking point and you're the one who's going to break me!" There was open pain in her eyes. "You are smothering me!"

Chell looked furious as she spoke, as if she meant every word and more, but once it was out she appeared much more like a deer caught in the headlights. She froze, her expression very clearly reading 'Oh no.'-

'No, I can still fix it-'

-before she turned and slammed the door to her room. There was a soft click as it locked behind her.

'You are not coming back.'

Wheatley didn't know what to say. It felt like he needed to say something, urgently, but he had no idea how to respond to what had just happened. The two of them fussed over little things plenty, but they'd only ever really fought one other time since he'd been back. That had been awful, the worst memory he had of here, but it hadn't ended with Chell running away from him, yelling at him, and slamming a door in his face.

Another old memory replayed itself in his head.

'She's gone.'

Cautiously, he took a step towards the door.

"Chell, I-"

"Don't apologize." She sounded utterly fed up with him. Wheatley recoiled from the doorway, a lump forming in his throat. Chell was the only person who had ever been nice to him, and now it seemed as though she didn't want him around, either.

If the Chell from There had ever spoken, this is what she would've sounded like. Wheatley was almost certain.

He knew that he should try to do something- try to say something- but the only thing he could really think was that This Was Wrong, something was Horribly Wrong, and he didn't know what to do to fix it. He was absolutely clueless. He had never seen her emotions like this. Had never seen her face emotions so strong that she actually failed at repressing them. That she lost herself to them.

After a few more minutes of stunned silence Chell spoke again.

"I'm sorry." She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. "It's not you Wheatley, I promise. I'm not acting like this because of you. But please stop interrogating me. I'll tell you what's wrong when I'm ready. Don't sit out in the hallway and stare at the door all night. Take a nap. Find the kids. Read a book. Do something. I'll be ok, really. I just need some time."

Dazidly, Wheatley returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He still didn't understand what had just happened.

How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

Author's Note:

Uh oh.

(That didn't take long.)

Past me: Chapter 24 will be short!

Present me: Chapter 24 is the longest chapter yet at over 4800 words!

By the way, see if you can detect a pattern in the past few (and next few) chapters… cause there are a few.

For some reason, this was a hard chapter for me to write at first. I'm hoping it's not cheesy. ahhh. I know where I'm going with this but I'm still a little nervous, so your feedback would be greatly appreciated.

After reading some Tumblr posts and reviews of last week's chapter (Chess) it's really interesting to see what you guys think GLaDOS is up to. Especially when I can compare it to what's actually happening.

I plan to talk more about Chess once Pieces is complete.

Before I go I want to give a huge thank you firami on Tumblr for their lovely fanart of last week's chapter. It's one of two pieces of fanart that my writing has received, so thank you so much! It means the world to me!

The next chapter should actually be short. XD


	25. Crumble

Another week passed, and things continued to get worse. Wheatley begged, and threatened, and pled, and whined, and snapped at Chell in an attempt to get her to tell him what was happening; Nothing worked. Things were getting worse between them by the day because he could not force himself to stop talking, and everything he said only served to make Chell more upset. All too soon it seemed they were once again nearing square one: There were times when stopped speaking to him altogether, and she began avoiding his eyes whenever they were in the same room. They fought more in that one week than they ever had in the first few months when he'd been new to town- more than when they couldn't stand the sight of one another. Back then their problem had been clear; now Wheatley had no idea what was wrong. All he knew was that Something Bad was happening, and there was no end to the fighting in sight.

He decided early on in that second week that he would leave if he could- and he actually made an attempt to- but the snow made any kind of travel virtually impossible. That, and the only neighbors they had were gone whenever checked.

So was Chell for that matter.

She had left him alone again that week; this time for five days. It was late afternoon of the fifth day, and she still wasn't back. Wheatley hadn't heard from her once since she'd left. Every other day Michael came with food (at least Chell wasn't angry enough to let him starve), and a few days back the town's children came to visit (how they got there he didn't know) but other than that Wheatley was alone for nearly the entire week. He wondered if Chell kept leaving for longer periods of time because she was starting to feel less guilty about leaving him.

He wondered if one day she might leave and never come back.

But apparently that day was not today.

The lonely silence of the house was broken as the front door opened, allowing a gust of frigid winter air into the house as it did so. Wheatley looked up from the book cover he'd been reading (dear God he was bored out of his skull), and he nearly dropped it as he watched Chell bow her head toward the crook of her arm and cough.

'She's gotten herself sick again.'

Before all of this nonsense (or whatever it was) had started Wheatley had been trying to sell her on the idea that she needed to take better care of herself. After her having spent so much time There it seemed as though she saw any problem, emotional or otherwise, as something that needed to be hidden for her own protection. Feeling or expressing any sign of vulnerability made her see herself as weak, so she would bottle her problems up until they revealed themselves through whatever health effect they may have (as they had now). Wheatley didn't want her to do that to herself. He wanted her to understand that getting sick was okay, and taking care of herself when she was sick was better than okay- it was a good thing. So was sleeping whenever she was tired, or eating whenever she was hungry (he knew that sounded stupid but he had seen her skip meals more times than he could count, and he doubted it was because she wasn't hungry. He wondered how many times she had done it just this week since he hadn't been around to call her out on it). Wheatley had hardly any insights on the whole 'being human' thing, and he meant no insult to Chell- she was brilliant- but even to him these things seemed trivial knowledge. Yet for some reason it had taken weeks of work and plenty of coaxing to convince Chell that doing these things was okay, normal even. And that he could help her deal with them if she would allow him to do so. She had begun to cave (she hated it when he made sense), too, and then the phone rang.

Now it appeared that was all out the window.

"'Cold." Chell elaborated as she yanked the snow covered boots off her feet. She glanced towards him, her gaze calculating (likely trying to gauge whether or not he was annoyed at her, he thought). "Sam already checked it out. I'm house bound for the rest of the week. I've been ordered to get more sleep and spend less time out in the snow." Chell gave him a rueful smile, and though her expression was playful her eyes did not meet his. "You were right."

That was something Wheatley certainly hadn't expected to hear that day.

"Naturally." He tried to sound suave (more like casual) but he fell flat.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few seconds before Chell offered a nod and turned towards her room.

Something in Wheatley's chest hurt as he watched her walk away. He didn't want her to leave again, it wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her, he just didn't know what to say. Every time he spoke he said the wrong thing.

"Hey," Wheatley called, a bit too loudly. He cringed at his volume, face turning pink as Chell backtracked towards him. He continued cautiously. "I'm sorry for being so… Clingy lately." Blue eyes glanced up at her sheepishly and she smiled down at him. "I really hate arguing with you, it's just that-"

'No, no, no this is supposed to be an apology what are you doing-'

"Chell- It's nearly been a month now, and you still won't tell me what's going on. You're hardly ever even home anymore! I'm stuck here alone all day because you're gone, and the neighbors are gone, and there's snow everywhere. I'm trapped here alone all the time!" Wheatley tried to remind himself that the point of this wasn't to argue with her, it was to make things better- but she'd left him alone for nearly a week- she never gave up on anything and she was giving up on him. He wasn't half as angry about all of this as he was hurt.

"Remember when you cared about that? About me feeling trapped?"

Chell bit the inside of her mouth when she heard the pain in his voice. This wasn't his fault, yet it was becoming more and more evident that he felt as though it was.

On the contrary, Chell thought Wheatley had every right to be mad at her; she was mad at herself.

"I'm sorry. I should've-" Chell cut herself off as she looked down at the floor. She needed to speak carefully or she might slip up, and that was the last thing she needed. She knew that Wheatley hated silence, and that she'd left him alone for over half the week now so he was likely eager for conversation, but in this case it would be best to say the bare minimum.

Chell tried again. This time she sounded less annoyed and much more gentle.

"This isn't your fault, Wheatley. I know I've been acting different lately, and I don't like it anymore than you do. I just need you to understand that, every bad thing I've ever had to deal with, I've dealt with it alone up until now. I don't know how to share the weight." Her expression softened as she looked down at him. "And when it comes to you, I don't think I want to."

Wheatley looked up at her eagerly.

"But I-"

She cut him off, frowning.

"I'm not trying to fight with you all the time, or shut you out, or ignore you, but this is the only way I know how to deal with things, and when I'm trying to… process things... and you come in asking me the same questions over and over again, that just makes it harder on me. Which makes me lash out at you, which makes you lash out at me, and then we're both miserable." She wondered if he understood that this was hard for her, too. That she was the one who had to actually keep This up, despite how much she hated it. This was taking a much bigger toll on her than she could ever show. "I know that you only want to know what's going on, but if I'm not telling you something, you don't want to know what it is. Trust me."

As she turned back towards her room, Wheatley noticed something in her eyes for the first time. He realized then that he'd seen it many time before; It only appeared for a split second before those sparks of tenacity lit her eyes, or she gave fake smiles or glares of annoyance, but this was much more important (and alarming) than any of those things, and now that he'd seen it he wondered how he'd never noticed it before.

What it was seemed obvious, yet he could hardly bring himself to say it.

"You're scared." Wheatley finally managed. He sounded as taken aback as Chell felt, though she didn't stop walking and he didn't stop talking. Suddenly everything made much more sense to Wheatley. "You're afraid of something. Is that why you don't want to talk about whatever is going on?"

Chell's pace slowed but still she walked away, and without acknowledging that he'd spoken.

Wheatley was running out of options. No matter what he tried she was just going to ignore him- just like she'd been doing for two weeks- ignore him, and abandon him, and shut him out, and- no-he wasn't going to let her do it again.

In an attempt to make her stay (or at the very least to make a point), he said something that neither one of them wanted to hear.

"It's Her, isn't it?"

"Don't!"

To his horror she moved to cover her ears, almost reflexively. Chell managed to stop herself before she actually did it, some voice in her head instinctively screaming 'You're not supposed to do that!' loud enough to prevent her from completing the action, but not before Wheatley saw her.

"Please," She whimpered, "I don't want to think about-" Chell stopped herself, the glint in her eyes springing from scared to panicked as she realized she was caught.

Both of them froze, exchanging looks of open horror before Chell spoke again.

She collected herself with impressive speed, her voice leveling out to something close enough to calm.

"No."

Wheatley sounded a bit more bewildered, and more than a bit concerned.

"What's going on?"

Chell may have been stubborn but even she knew when it was time to give in. Feeling more defeated than she would ever admit, she sank down next to him on the couch.

Wheatley started (and very nearly yanked away out of surprise) as Chell laced her fingers through his; something she hadn't done in weeks. He appreciated the gesture- he found contact reassuring and he'd been without it for about two weeks now- but he noted that, regrettably, it now felt much more alien than comforting. There was a bittersweet glint in Chell's eyes as she looked up at him, and her voice reflected their melancholy.

"Remember when you thought I was perfect?"

For some reason that question made Wheatley sad. Yes, he did remember when he'd thought she was perfect, and it hadn't been all that long ago. It felt as though a lot had changed since then.

Chell looked down at their hands.

"Right now, I think you're better off not knowing what's going on, because- you aren't ready for it. And I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to you about it just yet."

She knew that she was being selfish (that she had been acting selfish for far too long, now), that she was trying to make this decision for him- trying to influence what he wanted based on what she wanted (or at the very least what she thought was best for him)- and that she had no right to do so.

'Who are you to speak of Freedom?'

Chell blinked.

"But I won't make your decisions for you." There was obvious hesitance in her voice. "If you really want to know what's wrong, I'll tell you."

She was scared.

There were certain aspects of being human that she had wanted to explain to him delicately- as carefully as possible- and over time. She had hoped that some of the cons of being human wouldn't make themselves quite so painfully clear this early on, that he might have a few years of peace, as she had. Chell knew now that would not be the case, and there was nothing she could do about it save for hide the truth from him for as long as she could.

But what good would it do if he didn't want it hidden?

Wheatley knew that he was certainly treading on dangerous territory if it was somewhere that Chell didn't want to go. He also knew that it would probably be in his best interest to listen to her advice, because she always knew what she was doing and he (almost) never knew what he was doing, but it was becoming more than a tad obvious that whatever she was hiding was hurting her. Maybe if she shared it with him it wouldn't be as hard on her; and, really, it wasn't a difficult decision to make when he thought about like that.

"I want to know."

Chell had to admit that part of her was proud of him for seeking the truth despite knowing it was painful. That was a very human endeavor. Still, she stiffened at his response.

When she spoke her voice was heavier than he'd ever heard it. She wanted to meet his eyes but couldn't tear hers from their hands.

"Mortality."

As that one word hung in the air, the cold she'd let in before became much more noticeable.

Wheatley shuddered as long ago echoes of 'You'll die if…' and the wave of terror that followed rang through his head. Back There the only people- cores- that died, died because (well, it sounded a bit harsh, but because) they deserved it. Everyone was warned about what was and wasn't acceptable behavior, and of the consequences for the latter. Those who didn't listen, those who paid the price, consciously chose to do so; to accept the risk. They were the ones who fell off their rails, or turned themselves into flashlights, or became corrupted- and all because they didn't listen. Bad cores died; good cores didn't. Good cores lived forever.

Not anymore.

Chell sensed Wheatley's fear (it would've been hard not to, the color was draining from his face at a rather alarming rate) and gently brushed her fingers against the back of his hand.

She didn't want to speak, but she didn't have much of an alternative.

"People-"

'Careful.'

"People usually live for a very long time. Some people have lived to be over a hundred years old, but no one lives forever. And sometimes age has nothing to do with it. Sometimes people go to sleep and they don't wake up. Sometimes people get sick, or hurt, and they just don't get better."

For the second time that night Wheatley froze, paralyzing fear (great- thank you, human body- he needed more of that) surging up his spine even faster than before as some rather interesting pieces clicked into place. Chell had been acting strange (isolated, depressed) for two weeks, and she refused to tell him what was wrong, claiming that it was for his own good. Now she was getting sick, and to top it all off, they were having a conversation about death.

'Dear God, no- nononononononononono-'

"Chell," Wheatley's voice wavered as he squeezed her hand a bit too hard. "Why are you telling me this?"

Her voice was tight, void of emotion.

"You know Elizabeth. Our neighbor."

Wheatley was simultaneously flooded with intense relief, remorse, and a healthy dose of shame.

'Oh.'

"She's had health problems for a few years now, but- they've gotten worse in the past few weeks. A lot worse." The mix of emotions Chell was feeling was already strong enough to make her eyes sting ('That didn't take long.'), and she hated it, she hated it, she hated This. "Sam doesn't think-" The heat in her throat stole her voice, and at its disappearance she curled in on herself, and away from him.

'Stop it.'

"Chell." A few tears escaped her eyes as he began to trace patterns into her back. "Why didn't you just say something?"

At that she sat up, tear stained face stubborn as ever.

"Because it hasn't even been a year. I didn't want you to have to think about this yet." She looked away as her face tinged pink. "And I knew if I told you about it, I'd end up... like this."

His voice was gentle, almost teasing.

"Crying?"

"Yes." Chell felt pathetic as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but to him she looked strong as ever.

"Why, cause I'm the toughest man alive?" To his delight his joke earned him a little laugh. She leaned against him, be it somewhat reluctantly, allowing him to wrap an arm around her stomach as she rested her head on his shoulder. He nuzzled her gently, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His voice was dripping with warmth; understanding. "You can cry, Chell. You're human. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

'When did he become the mature one?'

"No it's not, but it sometimes it feels like it is." Wheatley felt her squeeze his arm a bit more tightly. "I fought Her because I was sick of being treated like an animal. Like something people could cage and control whenever they wanted. I told myself I fought for my humanity." Chell gave a bitter huff of laughter, her voice twisting to match. "Now I'm finally free and all I do is fight my humanity."

Wheatley hadn't really thought about it, but he supposed that was somewhat true. It was sad to think that Chell had fought so hard (and so long) for something, only to lose that something to the fight.

Though that was a rather exaggerated assessment of situation.

In Wheatley's opinion Chell had taught him everything he knew about humanity (which was far more than he'd ever expected to understand), and must have had quite a bit of it to bring herself to forgive him. Much less return There and save him, or share her home with him, or dedicate so much of her time to helping him with whatever he needed. It wasn't as if she was trying to suppress every human instinct she had; just the ones she didn't want people to see.

Or maybe not.

"She's been like a mother to be me." Chell snuggled into his side, hiding behind his arm as a frightened child might cling to a parent. Something in his chest hurt when he saw the just how pained her expression was (when he heard it in her voice), but he knew there was nothing he could to help. He could only listen. "The day I came here- when I collapsed- she's the one who found me. She was the first human I had seen in years. She and Sam saved me. They've looked after me ever since. And now-" Her voice caught and she hid her face from him. "I can't- I can't." She choked, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, love." Wheatley's presence- his voice- was starting to feel more and more like a security blanket (not that Chell would ever- had ever- stooped to one of those): warm, and reassuring, and comforting. "You're okay. Perfectly fine. You don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want to. We don't have to talk at all, if you don't want to. We can just sit here."

He felt her nod.

Wheatley held her as she cried, and it was terrifying and comforting for both of them. Hearing Chell sob was a bit like watching a mountain crumble at his feet; terrifying and unnatural. It was also a little uncomfortable because Wheatley's shoulder was growing very wet, and he still wasn't a huge fan of water- but Chell needed this.

It was a big step on her end. Crying in front of anyone would have been unlikely; crying in front of Wheatley- actually allowing him to hold her as she cried- felt absolutely unreal (and part of her hoped it was). It also made her feel better than she had in weeks, because, ironically enough, he fussed over her more when she was trying to hide her problems from him than when she was actually reacting to what was wrong.

If Wheatley had to guess he'd say Chell had been bottling all of this up for awhile now, because she cried, coughs mixing with her sobs, until she didn't have the energy to do anything save for sit there and let him hold her. He hoped she would fall asleep. She'd obviously been tired since all this had started, since Elizabeth had gotten sick, and he wouldn't mind to stay like this all night. Chell had returned to sleeping in her room (without him) since the first day she'd come back from the hospital, and... he missed holding her like this. Especially after the scare he'd had a minute ago, the contact was reassuring for him, too. Wheatley hoped that he was helping. He tried to comfort Chell by running his fingers through her hair, stroking her back; copying subtle comforts he'd picked up from her. He realized it wasn't much, but it was all he could offer. He just wanted her to be okay.

Chell shifted against him as if she was going to say something else, then untangled herself and stood. Alone, the air felt much colder to both of them.

"Thank you." She wanted to stay there with him so badly (it was warm, and safe, and he understood, it was okay-), but she couldn't. If Chell stayed much longer she was certain Wheatley would lull her to sleep, and there was no telling where her emotional stability would be when she woke. Considering all the things she'd said and done that day, Chell was surprised she'd been able to stand being around him for as long as she had. "I'm sorry."

As he watched her retreat down the hall, Wheatley wanted to believe that Chell was okay now. She had finally told him what was wrong: There were no more secrets and just her clearer conscience would probably make her feel a lot better. She should stop hiding in her room all day. She should start talking to him again. Things might finally got to go back to normal. They might finally get better.

He doubted it.

She was silent again. There was a creak as she opened the door to her room, and a soft click as she locked it behind her.

Poor babies.

I feel like Chell (my Chell especially) would have a very hard time openly expressing emotions in front of other people. It's better for her to be alone during a crisis because that's how she's grown accustomed to handling emergencies, and she'll allow herself to express emotion when she knows she's alone. However, if she's surrounded by people when she's struggling she just bottles everything up and it gets to be too much. She can't cope. And in general she doesn't very good care of herself, either.

I hope this didn't seem overdramatic(?). It's just that I usually write these chapters more from Wheatley's point of view and this time I did Chell's, and the fact that Chell is being dramatic (if that's the right word) about this is supposed to convey how upset she is. Hope I didn't over do it.

Angst is newer to me, so feedback is greatly appreciated.

Let's see how many Pieces puns I can sneak into this fic (my favorite one isn't going to get written anymore AUGH).


	26. On Hold

Hey guys! This has been a stressful week where I've had to make some hard decisions, and one of them is that I need to put Pieces on hold. Again.

Don't panic. XD

This week I realized I have the opportunity to get into an amazing writing program (which could work wonders for my future if I made it in), but it's extremely competitive, and (obviously) I would need to submit original writing in my application. Everything there would be centered around original writing, and working on original writing, and while I have ideas for about 12 books, I am not very good at writing my own characters because I hardly ever write anything but Portal fics. I have a pretty limited amount of time to work on developing the story and ocs I want to use in my application, so I feel like I need to step away from Pieces and start working on my original works in order to prepare. I'm not quite sure how long that will take

I was hoping to finish (most of) Pieces by the original end date, but I'm weeks behind that goal and honestly getting into this program is much more important. Once I'm done with this program (preparing, applying, attending (if I get to)) Pieces will be completed (not to the 64 chapter length (at least not right now) but to the length I currently have in mind). I'm debating over taking down the last three chapters of the fic (for now) because I realize that where the story is now isn't the best place to leave it, and 22 was a pretty happy chapter that might be a good place to stop until I can continue. If you guys could let me know what you think of that idea that would be great.

The Pieces of Christmas chapters are still on, and since I won't be working on Pieces I may also take some requests for Pieces, chelley, Portal, or sneak in some more Drabbles. If you would like to help me work on my original writing (which is what I really need to work on) I would love to write requests/prompts for that as well. Over on Tumblr portalpandawrites I am accepting prompts for my original story, and those can double as prompts for (separate) chelley fics that will later be posted as Drabbles.

When I return to writing Pieces the plan is to finish all of it (at least to the length I currently have in mind) and then post a chapter once a week. So I don't have to change my plans every other week,or put the story on hold, or anything like that. No more surprises.

I'm really sorry about putting the fic on hold again, but this is really important. Please understand and try to be patient.

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns feel free to send me a message. I will respond.

Thank you guys! I'm sorry!


	27. Update

Hey guys! It's been awhile! XD

I hope you're all doing well and had a wonderful holiday season. Some of you had asked me to keep you posted on my progress with the writing program, so I thought I'd let you know that I finally finished my manuscript yesterday! I still need to do a bit of editing, but for the most part I'm done. Hooray!

I don't think you can post links in chapters here, but if you'd like to read my manuscript it's posted on my Wattpad, DeviantArt, and Tumblr accounts, which all have the username PortalPanda.

My next goal is to finish my application and start on some chelley drabbles. I've had a pile of requests sitting around for a few weeks now, so I need to get on that. Hopefully some of those will be posted soon.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to work on Pieces very much at all. The holiday season was pretty crazy, and like I said, I just finished my manuscript yesterday. Once I get these requests done working on Pieces will be my top priority.

I'll continue to keep you guys posted about the writing program, and hopefully I'll have some new drabbles for you to read soon! ^^


	28. Another Update

Hey guys!

I promised I would keep you up to date with my manuscript adventures, so I thought you might like to know that I've made it through the first round of the writing program I applied to! There's one more round to go before I know whether or not I'm in, but I'm honestly thrilled and surprised that I made it this far.

Now it's time to prepare for a big scary interview. XD I'll keep you posted on what happens next.

Right now my goal is to develop a regular, structured writing routine for original works, so I'll have something to start with if/when I make it into the program. Unfortunately this will inhibit me from working on Pieces now, but should help me with Pieces later.

Oh, Pieces...

Despite my best efforts I haven't had too much luck writing Pieces as of late. My goal is to finish the last chapter of Pieces before the start of June. I know that sounds like a long time (and it is), but keep in mind that no new chapters will be posted until the entire story is complete. And then we'll be back to weekly updates! And Pieces will never be put on hiatus again! *choir sings in the background* Once Pieces is complete I plan on opening commissions for Portal fics (wohoo!), and starting work on my first book. We'll see what happens.

Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading!


	29. Results

Hey guys! Yesterday the results for the writing program came in… and I am an alternate. Which means that I still don't really know what's happening. XD I'm really proud of myself because this is a very competitive program and I've made it really far (I almost made it in!), however at this point I doubt that I'm going to get in because I am one of over thirty other alternates.

That's okay though! As the program was several weeks long this will give me more time to finish Pieces and set up commissions (once Pieces is finished). There are other things I wouldn't have been able to do if I made it into the program, and now I'm going to do those things instead. So this still works out!

Thank you guys so much for all your support! It's really sweet that you wanted to know how this turned out. If anything changes I'll be sure to let you know, but for now it's back to writing.


	30. Sneak Peek

**_Since today is the two year anniversary of Pieces, here's a sneak peek at chapter 26!_**

" _Probably ought to bring you up to speed on something right now."_

 _Wheatley fidgeted, his optic darting around nervously as he glanced at everything save for the lady in front of him. He hated being the bearer of bad news, and what he was about to tell her was pretty much the worst thing he could think of in the realm of things that could ruin escape plans. In fact, if there was a list titled "Things That Could Ruin Escape Plans", he was nearly certain that this would be at the top of it._

" _In order to escape, we're going to have to go through_ Her _chamber."_

 _The core paused for a moment to gauge the lady's reaction. Chell gave a light frown, her brow furrowing as she peered through one of the nearby windows at the chamber ahead of them. He noted that she didn't look particularly frightened, though a curious sort of light came to her eyes as she clasped her portal gun a little closer to her stomach._

" _And She will probably_ kill us _if, um, if she's awake."_

 _At that, test subject and core exchanged a look of mild alarm, which in Chell's case was mixed with more than a pinch of skepticism. She glanced up at him as she stepped closer to the door, and it almost looked as though she was biting back a doubtful smile._

 _She really did have brain damage, didn't she?_

 _Maybe if he could just distract her then they wouldn't have to do this._

" _If you want to call it quits, we could just sit here. Forever. That's an option. Option A: Sit here. Do nothing. Option B: Go through there, and if_ she's _alive,_ she'll almost certainly kill us _."_

 _Chell shook her head as she brushed past him. Wheatley started so badly he could have fallen off his rail._

Oh Dear God she was going to-

" _Okay, I'm gonna lay my cards on the table: I don't wanna do it. I don't wanna go in there. Don't… Don't go in there- She's off. She's off! Panic over! She's off. All fine! On we go."_

 _Was it just his imagination or did the lady roll her eyes at him before stepping into the next room?_

 _Hm._

 _As thrilled as Wheatley was that the two of them had made it inside Her chamber without being viciously murdered (as there were quite a few ways one could be viciously murdered around Here), he couldn't help but think how ironic it was that this was arguably the most dangerous room in the entire facility- or at least the most important one- and yet_ it wasn't locked _. Aperture was full of empty offices and hallways that lead absolutely nowhere with doors too complicated for Wheatley to crack (even with his arsenal of hacking skills), and yet Her chamber was left wide open. No defense whatsoever. It was no wonder a human had managed to defeat Her so easily: It was almost as though She had wanted whoever ended up killing her to come here._

" _There she is…"_


	31. Sneak Peek 2

**I finally finished chapter 26 yesterday, so you guys get another sneak peek! This snippet comes directly after the last one.**

Wheatley began the day by falling out of bed.

His hatred of silence paired with Chell's now nearly constant absence had lead to him relocating the kitchen radio to one of the side tables next to the couch. Since the white noise helped him sleep at night he lay as close to it as he could, which meant that when he jolted awake that morning his proximity to the edge of the mattress lead to an unscheduled meeting between his face and the floor.

Brilliant.

Wheatley gazed blearily at the clock as he peeled himself off the floor (at least it was carpet), the bright red numbers imprinting on his vision in the darkness.

It was five in the morning.

Even better.

Promptly after flopping back down onto the bed Wheatley cocooned himself in a quilt, and he was about to mash a pillow overtop of his head (believe him, nothing good could happen this early in the morning) when he thought to check the hall for signs of life. Cautiously, as if he were searching for something that might lunge out of the darkness and attack him, he peeked over the arm of the couch.

The hallway was completely dark save for a single beam of light that stretched across the floor. This, accompanied by the sudden sound of running water, must mean that Chell was awake.

Wheatley swallowed, something in his chest twisting with concern as he sank away from the arm of the couch.

Chell had been acting rather… strange lately. Granted, Wheatley had always found her actions to be a little strange, but that was because Chell was a flipping genius (if a bit of an eccentric one), and, to put it nicely, Wheatley Was Not. Usually that was fine– almost irrelevant, even– because they were a team. As long as Chell had the plan (and) or the know-how that Wheatley was missing (and really, when didn't she?), she was always happy to share it with him. So despite the fact that his thinking process was about 27 steps behind hers (and that was being generous), he was never left in the dark.

Well….Except for now. Now she had quite literally left him in the dark.

Wheatley hadn't seen Chell in three days.

 **Also, some updates!**

 **I was stuck on this chapter for over** ** _seven months_** **! It's over** ** _9000 words_** **! I'm thrilled that I finally managed to finish it, and I'm hoping that I'll be a lot faster writing the rest of Pieces. We'll see how it goes.**

 **This is the last sneak peek/update I'll be posting until Pieces is back up and running. Oh my! Hopefully that won't be too terribly long from now.**

 **One last thing (which I'm honestly a little embarrassed to admit) is that I've opened writing commissions for Portal and Steven Universe fics. I really wanted to wait until after Pieces was finished to open commissions, but (as I just finished the next chapter yesterday) it's taking awhile and I need to start saving money for a trip next year. Everything else is on hold. No requests, no drabbles, no other fics of any kind are being written. Pieces and commissions are the only things I'll be working on for quite awhile. And since commissions aren't doing all that well (womp womp) there's really nothing to worry about. XD**

 **If you're interested in a commission please message me for more info. It would really help me out and I'd be happy to write more content for Pieces and chelley! ^^**

 **That's all for now! We'll talk again once Pieces is finished! ;D**


End file.
